


let’s play [survive]: the forest

by choiminhovevo



Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter RPF
Genre: M/M, and ass eating, embracing the Nicki Minaj, naked fish wrestling, please write more salad tossing fandom, so much dicking, spit is nature's lubricant, they're dicking, unprotected sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-04
Updated: 2015-02-22
Packaged: 2018-02-11 17:07:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 8
Words: 39,501
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2076129
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/choiminhovevo/pseuds/choiminhovevo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>let’s play [survive]: the forest → r & r connection → r → 12189 words → in spirit of the let’s play: the forest, ray survives a catastrophic crash landing on a remote island inhabited by cannibals<br/>possible ableist language, gore, death, mazeophobia tw</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Sports Fans!

 

 

 

 

There are very few things in the world that can wake up Ray when he falls into one of his naps. Giant thunderstorms that shake his rat hole of an apartment? Ray just tosses over in his sleep. His shrill alarm that, is so loud that it wakes the neighbors across the hall? Nah, he’s dead to the world. From parades that happen down in the street below him to loud, obnoxious construction noises, if Ray Narvaez Jr. is asleep then good luck waking him up.

But it’s the quiet _thunk_ from the fuselage of the airplane that rouses Ray from his slumber. He blinks slowly and looks around the cabin. It’s one of those early morning flights he booked (but doesn’t remember when, how, or why he booked it) that has even the flight attendants stifling yawns and quickly heading to their seats to take a nap. _How long have I been on this flight_? Is one of the thoughts that cross Ray’s mind, and he thinks about dozing off again, but then another subtle _thunk_ comes from the front of the plane, as if something is throwing books at it. _But who would be throwing books at a plane in 30 000 ft up in the air_? Ray is about to rub the sleep from his eyes and push the flight attendant button to ask how long it is until we land and where the hell they were landing (he doesn’t remember his destination), when the plane is jostled so hard that it wakes up everyone and two flight attendants are about to put on the fasten seatbelt sign when the plane makes this keening sound and it makes a loud _thump_ that has carry-on luggage spewing out of its compartments. People are panicking around him and fear rises up in Ray but he’s too distracted to scream when a flight attendant tries to pick up the luggage and put it back in the overhead compartments when out of nowhere the fuselage _cracks_ and instantly the front half of the plane is _gone_ and the flight attendant has _been sucked out of the air_. The shrill shrieks of the passengers are drowned out by the scream of the wind and the glass and debris whip out and leave phantom cuts on Ray’s skin. Maybe he hears the remaining flight attendants yell “brace for impact!” and Ray knows the proper emergency landing technique but his mind just tells him “play dead, act like a possum, become a sea slug,” and amidst the surviving passengers putting their heads in their laps as they hug their knees Ray relaxes his body and aims to become boneless. He doesn’t know if it does any good when the remaining half of the plane finally crashes into the earth and skids several thousand feet, because a buzzing noise rushes into his ears and his world goes black.

 

 

Ray finds himself lying on the cabin floor, sore, disheveled, and alone. There’s a one night stand joke he wants to make but when he opens his mouth not even the most pitiful squeak can escape his lips. His vision is blurry which means his glasses are around here somewhere, so when he looks upward and sees a tall, overly muscular figure carrying what looks to be a body, standing right over him, Ray just assumes it’s his shit eyesight mistaking a tree for someone.

“Dude, this fuckin tree is _jacked_ ,” Ray mumbles as the figure disregards Ray and leaves with the body in its arms, and Ray blacks out again.

 

 

“I have crashed landed,” Ray says when he comes fully to, and he notes that every passenger that was on the plane has disappeared. “It seems I have survived, or I have died and this is the shittiest version of the afterlife on the planet.” His glasses were a foot from him, and when he puts them on his face, one of the lenses is cracked in three different places, so the improvement in sight is slight at best.

“Where the fuck am I?” Ray asks aloud. “Where the shit is everyone?” He stumbles as he gets to his feet and his steps are shaky at first, but he stops when he sees the lone corpse of a flight attendant  lying on the floor in a grotesque manner. It hits Ray that this is the first dead body he’s seen in a long time, and it’s the sharp stench of blood that floors him more than anything. He sobers up and he realizes he’s making some high pitched whine of terror.

“Oh my _God_ ,” he cries, tears welling up in his eyes, “you’re throwing up gang signs even until the end.” He leans his body on the toppled seats and bawls, out of relief and fear.

He figures if the flight attendant is dead, then what about the other passengers? Why are he and the attendant here but those dozens- if not hundreds- of people are not? The last of his sobs come out in a strangled gasp as he straightens up and wipes the tears from his eyes.

“No use standing around and waiting for something to happen,” Ray tells himself. “C’mon Ray, you’ve played a few zombie survival games. No, snap yourself out of it: you’ve _prestiged_ in zombie survival games. This is no different.” He gingerly takes a step out of the hull of the plane and grasps at a random fire axe amongst the debris of the crash.

“Except the fall damage is slightly more realistic and there are no save points.”

Crying makes Ray thirsty, so he rummages through the upended beverage cart (all the cans miraculously remain intact) and the first bottle he grasps is a phial of whiskey.

“Nah,” he tosses the whiskey behind him, then immediately runs to pick it back up, hatching up plans to make a Molotov cocktail because if hours of Silent Hill and Resident Evil and Left 4 Dead has taught him anything is that Molotov’s are like the holy hand grenade of zombie apocalypse. He finds a lukewarm water bottle and downs it in several gulps, taking in the sights of luggage and of course his bag is not among them. Seeing that no one was around to stop him from snooping through baggage, Ray figures searching through a bright pink duffel bag will take his mind off things. Maybe he’ll find a book, or a functioning Gameboy, or a vibrator for all he cares. He’ll stick it up his ass if it helps pass the time. But aside from a few articles of clothing and a tube of toothpaste (but no toothbrush) the only thing of interest was a lone tennis ball. In fact, when he opens up the next four bags-

“You’ve gotta be kidding me.” Ray says as he pulls out another canister of Dunlop Sports Championship Tennis Balls.

“ _Did I fucking crash land with a bunch of tennis enthusiasts?!”_   Ray shrieks as he drop kicks the canister across the field, slightly amazed at his new-found ability at kicking.

“Might as well go explore,” He says after a while, clearly going nowhere with this stash of tennis balls and declaring the fuselage as home base. He’ll return as soon as he finds food.

At least the pilots had the _decency_ to crash in a place that looks nice. There’s a beach not too far off and a healthy expanse of forest behind him. The island is so big that Ray wonders if he’ll spend the rest of his life here discovering new areas. The thought of never going home terrifies him and he walks off to the beach, but something moves from the corner of his eye and Ray pivots to look.

Peering from the shadows of the thicket is a person, haggard and forlorn in appearance. The darkness hinders Ray from fully seeing the person, but he can see the outline of the body, and when the person starts climbs out of the brush sunlight spills onto dirty blonde hair and skin sunburnt in several places, Ray is staring into some of the bluest eyes he’s ever seen in his life. He’s pretty sure he’s seen that shade of blue in the graphics of a video game.

“Blue eyes white dragon,” Ray finds himself breathing. The person hears (to Ray’s embarrassment) and his eyebrows quirk up.

“Hmm?” Is all the person asks, but something in Ray’s mind tells him to _run_ and so Ray does _run_. He’s positive he’s kicking up dirt and looks completely insane, especially when the person yells after him.

“Wait!” The person cries.

“Stranger Danger! _Stranger Danger_! _I need an aduLT!”_ Ray screams as the person is running after him. Maybe he should listen to what the guy has to say because he honestly wouldn’t be that bad, right? But there’s a menacing reinforced spear in the person’s hand and he looks like he knows how to use it.

Ray clears across the meadow and is passing by a small encampment. Maybe there are other survivors (that aren't armed with reinforced spears or fire axes) and maybe Ray could meet them once and then hide away in the fuselage and never speak to them again (just like he did back at home). The guy with the spear is still after him, asking him to “ _hold on just listen hey were you on that crash_ ” when in the distance Ray spots four figures walking into the forest. He stops and the guy chasing after him stops at the top of the hill, meters away from him.

 _People_! Ray thinks. _And unarmed? Well time to break the ice. But they’re forest people so I bet they don’t appreciate video games or discussions on whether or not Half Life 3 is going to come out_. Ray sees the figures must have sensed his presence and they turn around, still, as if studying him.

Ray vaguely remembers the tennis ball still in his hand (but not why he was still holding it), and he doesn’t remember winding his arm back and chucking the ball over to the people.

He doesn’t know why he calls out, “sports fans?”

The tennis ball lands at their feet and it must have irked the people because they are now poised to pounce and now two are breaking out into the fastest sprint Ray has seen. Two of them serpentine and flank him and Ray is once again kicking up dirt and shrieking “NOT SPORTS FANS! NOT SPORTS FANS!”

The person who was chasing after Ray earlier seems to have left already (or if Ray simply imagined him, he’s not stopping to think about it) and Ray really wishes he stopped and talked to the spear man because he may know the secret to the Ultra Spinning Jump Attack from Golden Axe but only the button combination. His palms sweat and the axe handles is slipping but Ray tightens his grip and braces himself as the strongest looking figure advances towards him with his gnarled and knifelike teeth are bared; gulps loudly when they start to _roar_ …

“I DON’T LIKE WIMBELDON EITHER!” Ray screams as he swings the axe as hard as he can and it’s head is nestled snugly in the figure’s chest. The person just _looks_ at it, and how Ray manages to contain the shit he wants to release as the person simply rips the axe out of its chest and continues to chase him is beyond the gods.

“JESUS CHRIST!” Ray’s shrieks agitate several birds from their perch as he dodges savage swings from the pursuers and weaves around trees. His lungs want to give and he’s going to trip anytime soon but he keeps running. _Just get back to base_ , panic seeping in Ray’s bones. _Just get back to base just get ba-_

One of the pursuers pops from behind a tree trunk and swings a heavy fist into Ray’s throat, literally knocking the man off his feet. Ray’s world blackens once more before he hits the ground.


	2. Ah Go Back to Sleep You're Really Tired!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ray "officially" meets Ryan

 

 

Ray is one hundred percent positive that his thorax is positively screwed, but a random body part he only knows from the useless tidbits of info he retained from high school is the least of his worries. He can _feel_ the dirt nestled in his hair, caked all over his skin, and there are phantom droplets of water that rain down on him as some sort of Chinese water torture. He’s sore all over, there’s sharp rocks poking into his back and his back and Ray feels like he endured a bdsm orgy. He sits up and no amount of blinking to adjust his eyes changes the absolute darkness.

“Way to go Ray,” he mumbles. “You let yourself get absolutely _wrekted_ , you big, dumb, stupid idiot face McGillicutty.” This calls for another random breakdown (because crashed on a remote island inhabited by tennis haters that express their hatred by punching you in the esophagus and taking you to a pitch black cavern with no lighting allows you to) and Ray can feel his chest tighten as he tries to hold off his sobs.

“Don’t cry like a bitch,” Ray whimpers to himself, “this isn’t the ending of Final Fantasy X. Pull yourself together.” It feels like it takes ages for him to get up but he rolls onto his knees and groans as the rocks cut into him, but he feels around the dirt floor as his eyes begin to adjust. There are several objects on the floor, empty cola bottles and-

“Sweet! _What are the chances_?” Ray’s fingers brush around the floor and he picks up a small metallic rectangle and his brain immediately recognizes its shape as a lighter. He flips the lid off and strikes the wheel against the flint, and ignores the flame burning his thumb as he triumphantly discovers it still works.

The flame is a small solace to this depressing situation, and it only illuminates maybe two feet in front of Ray, but he’ll take what he can get. Water drips slow and thick on his head and he rubs at his hair when the warmth drips onto his scalp. _Warm water_? The air in the cave chills Ray to the bone. Ray holds his hand to the flame and isn’t as surprised as he should be when he sees blood on his skin. He looks up and raises the lighter up towards the ceiling, illuminating the corpse of a passenger, eviscerated and ribcage protruding from its chest. Well that answers the question _where the shit is everyone_? Ray wants to scream, and it’s bubbling in his chest, threatening to come out, but if those tennis haters with the teeth problem _brought_ him and these passengers down here, then they must be nearby. The last thing Ray wants is another savage jab to the trachea, or worse. He steels himself as the tiny light dances across new corpses hanging on the ceiling, some dismembered, some exsanguinated, some missing halves of their bodies, but all completely and totally dead. Ray can feel his mind snap at the sudden surroundings and half of him prays to God to let him live and the other half just wants for Pyramid Head to appear out of nowhere with his Great Knife and shove it up his asshole. But his body propels him up and Ray is stumbling in the dark of the cave, hiding behind rocks whenever he hears a noise he isn’t familiar with (which is all of them). He’s been trying to escape the cave for far too long, and it’s times like this where Ray wishes he went back a couple of years and didn’t make the decision _no I’m not gonna play Skyrim_ , because he figures the hours stuck in tombs and caves and Nord crypts will have taught him some lessons.

Ray’s fingers grasp vines and dim light peeks through thick leaves and stones. He presses onward and stumbles up a dirt slope, discovering that yes, this is the exit, and it takes a few moments but after pushing the vines back and squeezing past a boulder, Ray is out of the cave.

“Alright!” Ray breathes. “Lesson number one: don’t throw tennis balls at white people. Now how the hell do I get back to base?” He squints when tender sunlight blinds his eyes. Following basic game protocol, Ray heads left and continues in that direction. He avoids heavily forested areas and remains in the open, warily looking around in case any of those people show up (his fire axe is not with him, and Ray has to mentally prepare himself because he knows another will not respawn at the plane). He creeps past the small encampment he recognizes from his early tennis ball catastrophe. _Good to know I can find my way just by using simple video game life hacks_. Within the hour, he’s returned to the fuselage, and Ray almost cries out in relief when he sees that Senorita Gang Signs has guarded the plane well.

“Home sweet crash site,” Ray sighs as he climbs onto the hull and sits on top. “No food, no water, no skills to defend yourself, and no video games to keep yourself entertained, maybe you should just let one of those tennis haters kill you Ray, so you can actually be useful for once and be one of their piñatas.” But despite having literally all the time in the world to laze about and sleep his life away, Ray know he needs to act now and learn to survive. He surveys the crash site and when he gazes at the mound of tennis balls his fury overrides him and he jumps off the hull and runs over to kick them away. Realizing his error as the tennis balls are rolling away in random directions, he could have easily given away his position.

“Time to build a fire,” Ray goes about the business of collecting sticks (the first one he picks up has a giant fuzzy caterpillar on its end and Ray shrieks in terror and flings it into the woods, screaming “ewww eeewww ew get it off!”). When he finally got over his bug problem and collected a bundle, he arranges stones in a circle and places a pile of leaves in the center. “Light it up!” Ray takes out the lighter and he thanks the deities out there when the sticks and leaves catch fire and within minutes a hearty bonfire has erupted. Ray feels relaxed and safe, and when he sits by the fire and allows himself to be still, he realizes he’s been shaking all this time. He inhales deeply, letting the deep earthy scent of the forest fill up his lungs. His relaxation is short lived when his stomach gurgles in protest for food. Ray gets up and rummages once again through the beverage carts to find packets of peanuts or pretzels, or any fruit. There’s some bruised bananas that Ray scarfs down and a few packets of pretzels that he demolishes in seconds, almost choking himself. But he goes through half of the airline food and he’s still hungry. Ray finds another fire axe (“I don’t know if this plane has a spawn point but hallelujah! I won’t let you out of my sight!”) and spots a lone, innocent bunny rabbit sitting by a suitcase, oblivious to Ray. What a cute little bunny rabbit, Ray thinks, and part of him thinks it would look cuter if it was in his stomach. _I’m going insane. That’s just peachy_. Clutching the axe so tight his knuckles turn white, Ray looms over the rabbit, coiled to strike. There’s a fleeting second where Ray thinks he might as well go vegetarian because he can’t bring himself to kill this harmless animal, but when the rabbit shifts and makes to turn its body around the blade of the axe swings down in a deadly fast arc and Ray’s maniacal laughter rings out in the camp. Realizing he’s overcome with raging bloodlust, Ray stares, horrified, at the axe protruding from the animal’s tiny skull, its blood staining his shoes.

“I’m sorry buddy.” He’s reminded that Ray has no skills in killing and skinning an animal, so he killed for naught.

“Do you need help in that?” Comes a voice behind him and Ray jumps a foot up in the air, yelping as he whips around with the bloody axe in hand. “Whoa, _whoa_! calm down!”

It’s that guy again, the one with the bluer-than-blue eyes and the handy reinforced spear. He’s tall and muscular; Ray feels like a _kid_ compared to him. He’s dressed in faded and well-torn jeans and some odd scaly armor (is that _lizard skin_? Ray doesn’t want to find out). Leaves are stuck in the man’s sandy blonde hair, and the makings of a beard is dusted on his jaw.

“It’s blue eyes white dragon spear,” Ray stares at him, very aware of the mist of blood staining his face.

“I’m not here to harm you,” the man begins, slowly putting his spear down. “I’m not one of those guys.” Ray looks at the spear on the ground, and notices one of the tennis balls in the man’s right hand.

“Sports fan?” Is all Ray can say.

 

 

Lizard Spear Man is damn good with a blade, no matter how cumbersome, Ray discovers when the man deftly wields his spear and kills another rabbit without hesitation, and within five minutes both rabbits are thoroughly skinned and roasting on a spit over the fire. Ray’s sorrow over the rabbit’s death has thoroughly dissipated and he warily watches the man go about collecting sticks and placing them at Ray’s feet. His stomach growls when the aroma of cooked meat permeates the air. “Is it done yet?” Ray asks.

“Give it a few minutes,” the man says calmly. “You don’t want to catch poisoning from eating undercooked meat.” The man sits across from Ray, careful to maintain a distance between them. Ray is still unsure the man is safer than the others; maybe he’s the one who left their alternative lifestyle and learned how to speak, dress, and shave.

“You were on that plane crash.” If it was a question, the man never phrased it as such. Ray just nods. “I haven’t seen the others, or if there are others-“

“I saw them.” Ray’s voice is flat. “Those people…. Those people killed them. Hung them up, they’re like…”

“Taxidermy?” The man finishes and Ray nods lamely.

“Why did you run off when I threw that tennis ball at them? Why didn’t you help me?” Ray asks, because the man looks like he can take on a bear.

“Because I’ve tried to fight them once, but they’re…. They’re very hard to kill.”

“Are you trying to say they’re _unkillable_?”

“No, no, they _can_ die; it’s just very hard to _kill_ them.” The man clarifies. Ray gulps and counts himself lucky that those people didn’t finish what they started.

“You… Are you-“ Ray doesn’t know what to ask. “How’d you get here?”

“On this island?” The man replies. “I don’t remember. A freak white-water rafting accident, I suppose. I’ve been here so long that I don’t remember _how_ I got here.”

Ray’s heart sinks into his stomach and he’s no longer hungry. “How long have you been here?”

“Over four years, something like that.”

 _Four years_! Just thinking about living four years without the comfort of video games and stuck on a remote island with savages has Ray falling into the pits of depression.

“I assume we’re still in America,” the man continues. “The flora and fauna are very similar to the forests of the Midwest, so “home” is a relative term to me.”

“Have you ever tried getting off this island?”

The man looks at Ray, electric blue pits boring straight into him. “I’ve been too busy keeping those beings at bay, and plus the island is so _large_ , I haven’t been able to find a way off.”

Ray blushes and looks down into his lap, fighting the tears that sting his eyes. There’s an uncomfortable silence that hangs between them for several moments, save for the man taking the spit off the campfire and with a bare hand, takes the sizzling rabbit off the skewer and hands it to Ray.

“My name is James, by the way,” the man says, deep voice soft. “But most people back when I wasn’t stranded called me Ryan. So Ryan Haywood. That’s my name.”

“I’m Ray Narvaez Jr., most people called me Ray.” Ray gingerly takes the rabbit haunch and almost drops it from the heat.

“Sorry, I’m just so used to holding hot things in my palms I grew used to it.” Ryan offers a shy smile and goes to eating his rabbit. For someone who has been living alone on an island for a few years, Ryan has _immaculate_ food manners. He daintily picks at the flesh and eats it quietly, and Ray feels like a dumb slob compared to him. When Ryan finishes eating, he goes to the beverage carts and takes several of those shitty napkins they give to passengers with their glass of water and wipes his fingers with them.

“Forgive my manners,” Ryan speaks. “It’s been so long since I’ve seen anyone _alive_ and _docile_.” _Who the fuck is this guy_?

“So, what are you plans now? Do you plan on building a fortress out of this fuselage? Because the material is sturdy and imperious enough where those beings won’t come near, and an airplane hull? It’s optimum shelter. Waterproof, insectproof, plus plenty of clothes for you to remain warm during the coming winter-“

“No offense,” Ray interrupts, “but I plan on getting off this island.”

Ryan stares at him, unblinking. “You do know there’s no way off this island,” He reminds quietly.

“That’s what you think. I’m getting off here, even if it means I swim my way off here. I’ll wait for search and rescue to locate the GPS of the plane and its black box, and when they come and see me soon I’ll be off to playing Call of Duty back home and having my awesome kill streaks in montages.”

“You can’t get off this island!” Ryan exclaims.

“Watch me,” Ray gets up and gathers the pile of sticks and starts sharpening them. He can feel the stare Ryan is giving on the back of his neck, but Ray is so determined to show him, that he doesn’t falter.

“Well then,” Ryan says finally. “I’ll leave you to it. If you ever feel like combining forces, I have a small camp just off the beach several miles away.” Ryan points behind him, past the trees and beyond. “I’ll leave this here with you.” Ryan places a small handbook at Ray’s feet and before Ray can say anything Ryan disappears into the woods without another word.

 

 

The handbook has startlingly accurate guides how to make shelters, traps, and even gardens. There’s another section near the end of book but it’s covered in what Ray really really hopes is just ketchup and Ray doesn’t even want to touch that section, so he sticks with the shelters. The airplane hull can only do so much, and Ray really wants to make something of his own (to prove that he can), despite the fact that he actually _can’t_.

“So I just weave these leaves together and make some sort of netting, it can act as some sort of camouflage?” Ray tries to weave leaves as the book shows him to, but his fingers are too clumsy and thick and he settles for taking an airline blanket and draping it over the wooden “tent” skeleton. It’s very pitiful, and Ray knows this, but a shelter’s a shelter. There’s a diagram showing him how to make an actual log cabin, but Ray knows in his heart he can’t chop down a tree with a lone fire axe, much less carry eighty-something logs by himself and build an actual house. Besides, _he’s getting off this fuckin island_. The shit tent will have to suffice for the time being, and it takes him two hours and Ray is exhausted but the tent is finished and large enough for him to crawl in and get a fitful rest. _Maybe tomorrow I’ll start to build a raft or a better weapon_ , Ray thinks as he pulls a pink hoodie he stole from a suitcase over him as a blanket, _or maybe I’ll build the biggest fire the North has ever seen_ … _That sounds like a quote from something and I’m not sure where_. He falls asleep before he starts thinking about rabbits crying as they get axed in the face.

 

 

Ray awakes feeling far more rested than he has in days. Sure there’s twigs and hard dirt digging into his back but he feels _invigorated_ and he’s ready to continue his journey off the island and start this night off right-

Wait, _night_?

The campfire is dying down, its embers weak and almost invisible. The dark swallows everything and Ray can’t even see the airplane even though he knows it’s behind him. If video games have taught him anything, it’s that _bad **guys are more powerful in the dark**_.

There’s only one thing Ray can do.

“Ah go back to sleep Ray, you’re really tired!” Ray curls himself up into his shanty even more and forces himself to sleep. It takes him hours, with not actually being tired and hearing every minute sound from twigs snapping to the wind, Ray clutches the fire axe and holds it close, fear eventually carrying him off to sleep.

 

 

It’s the tender beams of light that wake Ray up, and he can practically feel the eye bags on his face.  _So much for sleeping well_ , he thinks. _I don’t know how much longer I can take this. I’ll be dead before help will even arrive. It’s just like being a minority._ Ray lets out a rasped laugh at the similarity. Easily admitting defeat, he picks up a warm can of cola from the beverage cart and Ryan’s survival handbook. He remembers Ryan pointing far to the left side of the island that he has a camp on the beach, and offering to combine forces and survive, Ray thinks that would be a splendid idea. Maybe Ryan will welcome him with open arms and better food and weapons. Maybe Ryan will defend him from those tennis haters, and maybe Ryan will hopefully open up and tell him how to get off the island. But Ray can’t just sit here and just hope that Ryan might be this or that. So he does the only thing he can do.

He heads left.


	3. Hey Can You Cook It?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ryan shows Ray how to fight and survive and to stay away from traps

“Just how far away _is_ this beach?” It’s only been two hours since Ray went off in search of Ryan’s camp, but when stalking through the forest, unsure if any of those creatures are hiding behind trunks just waiting to strike, it feels like an eternity. A white-knuckled grip clutches the fire axe and Ray is checking every direction. There’s a small clearing, so small Ray isn’t sure if one would even call it one, littered with tennis balls. Ray wonders if this is where he kicked most of them until his vision focuses and he can’t help but yell “ _OH MY GOD_ ”. There’s another passenger, dressed in casual business attire, and forced into a kneeling position as a wooden spear protrudes from the base of the skull, the thickest part of the wood solidly embedded in the passenger’s sternum. Ray bites down on his tongue to stifle his cries of tear as he stumbles upon one passenger literally spit-roasted in the middle of the forest.

“Bruh they put _tennis balls in your mouth_?” Ray allows himself to squeak. Flies buzz around the rotting corpse and if Ray stares at it long enough it looks like a Christmas dinner. Something behind him _snaps_ and Ray doesn’t even bother to turn around; he hightails the fuck out and he’s doing the most adept power walk on the planet.

“Nope, nope, _nope_ , time to go Ray, get the fuck out of here. Nothing to see here.” He imagines whatever made that snapping noise is following him, and he feels phantom eyes boring into him from every shadow. Ray still wonder how he hasn’t shit his pants yet; he’s a bit concerned.

Ten more tense and harried minutes and Ray is finally in the clearing, a beautiful clearing in which he can see clear across one island. The grass sways gently in the breeze and dandelion seeds float gracefully in the wind. _This is really fucking_ quaint, Ray thinks. _Why didn’t I bunk here? Ray you idiot_. But _where is Ryan’s encampment_? Ray figures by now he ought to have seen it by now, especially from this vantage point. Did he make a wrong turn? “Fuck that shit I’m not going back in there.” Ray adjusts the backpack on his pack (that he “borrowed” from the luggage) and readjusts the grip on the fire axe and continues plodding along, still looking in every direction.

Another hour and Ray reaches the edge of the, what he guesses is the main island. The gentle waves crash against boulders and grassy crags, and the slight scent of murky water permeates the air. Ray inhales, lets it fill his lungs and he feels heavy and light all at once. The wind picks up and Ray pushes against it, wishing for it to overpower him and push him flat into the earth. _Carry me away_ , he thinks, _lift me away; take me anywhere but here_. The wind pays no heed to Ray and it dies down. Ray sighs and surveys the area. The island is either one giant mass of land broken by several tributaries, or it’s a cluster of land pockets each independent. Ray hurries down to the shore and notices a small outcrop of rock, but not before he notices a-

“Is that a fucking _drawbridge_?” Ray asks aloud. A rudimentary one, at that, but Ray knows a drawbridge when he sees one. At least fifteen feet high and made with aging, yet sturdy wood, the bridge was several planks held together by vines and thin willow branches, with the rope made of a material that Ray can’t recognize, and isn’t sure he wants to.

“He made a motherfucking drawbridge, what a nerd.” Of all the people Ray is going to be stuck with, it has to be a drawbridge enthusiast dweeb. Then again, stuck on this island for four years with no internet and video games, you’re gonna have to do _something_.

The rocky outcrop is big enough to shelter several people and there are a few primitive tents under it, shielding it from rain and wind. Ray spots a figure moving under the outcrop and immediately recognizes it as Ryan.

“Hey! Heeyyyyyyyyyy!” Ray calls over the crash of the waves, waving his fire axe in the air. Ryan hears and he jogs over to the drawbridge.

“Glad to see that you came!” Ryan calls back, lowering the bridge and the heavy wood clatters on the boulders. Ray precariously walks over it, mindful of every creak and groan as the wood holds his weight. He’s on the other side and he nearly stumbles into the sand but Ryan grabs him by the arm and helps him keep his footing.

“Afraid of bridges?” Ryan quirks an eyebrow and Ray gripes.

“That thing is rickety as dicks, dude, I thought I would fall through the wood.” Ray puts down his axe and he feels infinitely safer. “How _far_ is this camp from the plane?”

“Several miles, I guess,” Ryan estimates. “Five, maybe six? It doesn’t bother me; the distance. Walking around is, I guess you could say a _hobby_ of mine. Why, did you have trouble?”

Ray doesn’t want to admit he may have been followed or feels like he was being watched. “Nah, it just took too long. I’m a born couch potato, walking more than two miles is beyond my capability.” He shrugs.

Ryan chuckles. “You trekked six miles on your own with little wear on you, I say you can. I call this character development.”

Ray takes off his backpack and reaches inside it, pulling out Ryan’s book. “Here,” he says, handing it to the older man. “I thought I’d return it.”

“Thanks, though I’m sure you’ll be needing it more than me; I have it memorized,” Ryan pockets it in his lizard armor all the same. “But, let me show you around the camp! It’s not much, but, it can support more than me so-“

“Hey, I’m _still_ getting off this island.” Ray interrupts.

“Are you now?” Something about Ryan’s look unnerves Ray, but Ray is defiant.

“Yeah, I only came to give you back your book. It did help me some, but I’m going to take my axe and my bag of snacks and trek off this island.”

Ryan is far too close to Ray and Ray feels like he shrunk a couple of feet when Ryan literally looks down on him.

“Two miles that way is the freshwater spill-off into a lake,” Ryan explains, voice low and controlled. “How large the lake is, it can only be hundreds of miles long and wide, if not thousands. The forests beyond where you crashed are where those creatures are gathered, and beyond that is nothing but unexplored forest for miles. Behind us, is twenty or more miles of untouched forest, and beyond that a mountain. Forgive my skepticism on your abilities, but _I’ve_ tried getting off this island, and _I’m still here_.” Ryan’s tone sounds clipped and terse, but his face is calm and the beginning of a smirk teases his lips. It’s enough though, to make Ray look down like a sullen child.

“So!” Ryan continues. “We have enough to eat for the next week, so no hunting for a while, but while we’re combining forces I want to teach you how to handle yourself in case of- well; we’ll cross that bridge when we get to it.” Ryan shows Ray the small food storage with dried fish, berries, and jerky nearby the log storage. He tells Ray that he has five campfires that he lights every night because those creatures avoid fire. Several bags made of cloth and giant plastic tubs filled with water were in one tent. “My freshwater supply,” Ryan adds. “This island is surrounded by freshwater, but this is pure filtered water, so better for you.” _Water is water; as long as there’s no shit floating in it I’m good_. Ray thinks, but never voices it.

“Down there for ten minutes is a waterfall, and beyond that for a couple of miles is where you can find deer and other wildlife. They roam there in that spot because the creatures don’t come down there as much.”

“Do the creatures ever _bother_ you? Do they know that you’re on this island?” What an unnecessary question but Ray figures he ought to be thorough.

“They know I’m on here,” Ryan stares off into the distance. “At first, I think they didn’t, but I think they monitor the amount of trees knocked down, and the amount of deforestation starts to _irk_ them.” Ryan kicks at an idle pebble. “They also know I’m here because, well…” Ryan can’t seem to finish.

Ray leans in. “Well _what_?”

“I mean, I was _captured_ once, like you, and I escaped…” but Ryan was holding something else back and was reluctant to explain, so he clears his throat and gestures beyond the outcrop to an assortment of mechanisms.

“Traps?” Ray guesses and Ryan nods.

“You can never be too careful, what with creatures and… other things all about. They’re easy to maneuver around if you know they’re there, but at night…”

“You catch anything in there?”

“A couple of those guys, a couple of other beings…”

“You kill them?”

“Yeah.” Ryan doesn’t sound proud of it, but not ashamed. His voice dies off and goes back to one of the tents, returning with a spear in his hands.

“Here,” he says, handing the spear to Ray. “A trusty fire axe has many purposes, but when you want to catch fish and have some distance between enemies, a spear gets the job done.”

“Thanks,” Ray holds the spear in his hands and admires the heft. It feels easier to wield than the axe, as it has a longer reach. There’s barbed wire delicately wrapped around the point, and Ray wouldn’t want to be on the receiving end of this spear.

“I made it, in hopes you’d use it.” Now it’s Ryan’s turn to look sheepish and he toes the sand. Ray blinks, _he thought of me_? Something swirls in Ray’s chest, a feeling he can’t describe because he isn’t sure he’s felt it yet, but he coughs nervously to dissolve the homo moment.

“I mean, I don’t know how to use a spear, except in Final Fantasy X, but there’s no Kimahri in sight so… Unless you’re Kimahri.” Dead silence falls between them. “Wow Ray, A –plus joke material right there.”

“… I can teach you how to use the spear…” Ryan awkwardly offers.

“Hey, what’s that hole over there?” Ray points to the far end of the camp. There’s a deep hole, so wide and deep that one might call it a chasm. Even in the late afternoon the hole seems to swallow the light around it. Ray wonders: did Ryan dig that? How did he get out? “Did you dig that? What’s in it?”

“It’s none of your concern.” Ryan’s voice is steely and firm, he almost _barks_ out his answer. It stops Ray from approaching the hole like a kicked puppy.

“I didn’t mean to…”

“I’ll teach you how to use the spear, along with a few other tricks,” Ryan offers, voice normal once more. Ray wonders if he has a split personality. “But first, we should eat. It’s been a long day for you, and there’s only going to be longer days ahead.”

 

 

Turns out, playing fifty hours of Final Fantasy X with Kimahri in his first three rotation _did_ in fact help out Ray. He’s leagues away from what Ryan can do, but he’ll give himself praises. He can throw the spear like a javelin dozens of feet (but Ryan can throw it clear across the tributary and _still_ hit a _flying target_ ), as well as imitate Kimahri’s savage swipe strike really well, but he can’t do the Ronso Rage Jump, no matter how hard he tries. It makes Ryan laugh though. After the tenth attempt of jumping and nearly bruising his ass Ryan is in a fit of giggles as Ray sits there in the sand, scowling at his spear lodged in a tree. “Well, you know,” Ray shrugs. “I bring the comedy 24/7.”

Late afternoon fades into evening and the sun casts a gentle orange glow on the horizon. The light glints wonderfully against Ryan’s hair, Ray thinks, but then Ryan turns his head to Ray and gives him this _look_ that has Ray wondering if Ryan can hear his thoughts. _Great. I’m stuck with a man who makes spears at will, fights mutant creatures, and is a telepath_.

“We have to light the fires,” Ryan says softly, as he goes to grab a log from the roaring campfire.

“Hmm?”

“Extra pre-caution. We have to make sure we won’t get any unwelcome visitors tonight.” Brandishing the makeshift torch, Ryan shows Ray how he lights the campfires above the outcrop first, then he treks to one end of the clearing, past a thicket of trees onto a cliff.

“You have fires all the way out here?” Ray asks after a while, but Ryan looks down to the ground and stops, raising a foot as if to step back. “What?” Ray looks and almost jumps out of his skin, squeaking.

“How did _that_ get here?” Ray whispers hoarsely at the body of a mutant sprawled on the grass. It looked to be asleep, as it was lying on its side. “Is it _dead_?” He looks over at Ryan, who raises Ray’s axe above his head. “Hey what are you-“

Ryan brings the axe in a violent chop, savagely striking the creature’s torso. Instantly upon impact, and _comically_ (if Ray thinks so himself), the body _explodes_ into an eruption of guts, blood, and body parts.

“ _OH MY FUCKING **GOD**_ ,” Ray screams and it even startles Ryan. “ _IT’S A FUCKING PINATA. WHAT THE FUCK, WHAT THE FLYING F U C K. OH GOD IT’S IN MY MOUTH, OH JESUS-  
“_ Ray is suddenly holding the creature’s leg and he unleashes a fresh peal of expletives.

“Calm down!” Ryan hisses, snatching the leg from Ray. Ray wants to chomp down on his arm to keep himself quiet but he and Ryan are literally _covered_ in the creature’s blood, and there’s some still in his mouth, so he resorts to combination of gagging and spitting and even _dragging his tongue onto the grass_ to get the blood off.

“Calm _down_ ,” Ryan repeats, the torchlight amplifying the spray of blood misting his face. His eyes are two pits of darkness and it shuts Ray up with a tiny squeak. There’s a tense silence as night fast approaches, and Ryan’s still holding the creature’s severed leg.

“Can you…” Ray begins after a while. Ryan blinks; blood dripping down his beard.

“Can you cook it?”

 

 

“These are _effigies_ , Ray,” Ryan brandishes the light towards four gruesome looking totem poles. Ray is awash with horror as the array of limbs, organs, and heads are arranged on sticks and stones. This is something he’s only seen in Resident Evil.

“They are the best way to ward off these creatures,” Ryan continues, almost oblivious to Ray’s expression. “When lit, they will stay away from the area, and they’re _frightened_ of them.”

“D-d-d-did you,” Ray’s voice comes out in a tiny murmur. “Did you come up with this?”

Ryan stares at Ray, and then turns back to the largest effigy, a gruesome display of multiple hands, heads, legs, and even torsos, are arranged like a rhombus.

“I’ve seen…. _Things_ ,” Ryan begins. “I’ve mainly developed these from _them_. They have effigies scattered across the island. It keeps me from them, and these keep them away from me, so that’s all that matters.”

Ray remembers that passenger getting double penetrated by that stick. “I saw one of the passengers from the plane in an effigy,” Ray offers. “He was annihilated by this staff? Had tennis balls stuffed in its orifices like it was in some C-rated porno.”

Ryan nods. “They make those usually for decoration.” He explains.

“ _Decoration_?”

A wry, soulless smile twists across Ryan’s face. “Maybe these mutants are just a band of art school dropouts,” something of a dry laugh comes out in a shot bark from Ryan and Ray nervously laughs back. He can feel the blood drying on his body and Ray _really_ needs a wash right now.

“Let’s head back,” Ryan finishes lighting the effigies and the crackle of fire and stench of burnt flesh almost feels welcoming to Ray, but he doesn’t want to stick around in case those creatures do come. “We need to wash this blood off. Sorry I never warned you about the… cavalcade of gore when hitting a corpse.”

“It normally explodes like that?”

“It’s almost as if it’s a video game glitch,” Ryan smiles and even through the darkness Ray can see it; can _feel_ it.

They’re back at the encampment, the four campfires burning brightly. The hole is still an non-illuminable void, and Ray almost gets near it but Ryan grabs him by the collar and pulls him away from it.

“If you fall in that you’ll never get out,” Ryan warns, and Ray squeaks an okay. Ryan takes off his lizard armor vest and his ragged plaid shirt, and the firelight outlines the magnificent shoulder-to-waist ratio of Ryan’s torso; an expanse of skin with muscles rippling underneath. Ray feels so inadequate and pee-shy, and turns full on _shy schoolgirl_ when Ryan dives into the water, and calls out for Ray to join him.

“Nah,” Ray coughs, rubbing at the blood flaking on his face. “I’m a prolifically dirty boy. I am filth. Let me continue to become even filthier. Let me accentuate my dirt-like quality.”

“Come on, the water feels great!” Ryan’s voice sounds jubilant. “I can feel the blood wash away from my skin. I am ensconced in a vortex of _calm_. The water’s amazing.”

“These sound like the most uplifting lyrics from an Evanescence song,” Ray replies dryly, but the night is dark and Ryan isn’t going to mock Ray for his scrawny figure, so he strips off his shirt and his shoes and jumps right in. The water envelops him like a hug, it’s cool and warm all at once. Instantly all of Ray’s fatigue washes away and he could lie there forever, floating downstream and off into the vast unknown of the great lake beyond…

But then he remembers he can’t swim.

Ray _sinks_ so fast he almost doesn’t realize it. He coughs and splutters as the currents drag him down and water fills his mouth. It’s a bitter and painful taste, Ray knows not to breathe so he flails his arms and tries to propel himself upward, but the current is too much for him and Ray really wishes he learned how to swim-

Two powerful arms drag him out of the water and Ray is taking the sweetest gulp of air he’s ever had. He sputters and coughs violently as Ryan holds him close, whispering “are you okay?” He’s even _patting_ his head, as if to calm Ray down.

“Are you okay?” Ryan’s breath tickles his ear and his chest heaves, pressing against Ray’s back.

Ray coughs. “I know of a couple of gay pornos that start off like this,” he cracks, and lets out a wheeze when Ryan pushes him off of his lap and into the wet sand.

 

 

Ryan and Ray turn in for the night, and Ray curls up in the far corner of one of the tents, sleep coming easy for once. Ray is determined to learn how to not only survive, but _thrive_ in this environment. He’s still going to get off this island, be it by boat or climbing that shit mountain or killing every single goddamn mutant on this island, but first...

“I have to take a shit,” Ray whispers aloud. The fires are still going but it’s still too dark to see. _When’s the last time I’ve even taken a shit_? Ray thinks, a little concerned that isn’t up to his own shit schedule. He quietly gets up (in case Ryan is one of those light sleepers and wakes up and mistakes Ray for a creature and stabs him in the heart with his spear) and tiptoes away from the tents. He’s about to pass the hole and he wonders, _what’s really in that hole_? Maybe it’s a makeshift porta-potty or something. What else _could_ it be? Ray figures if he stood around any longer wondering if the hole was a toilet he will honestly shit his pants, so he precariously squats over the hole after dropping his pants and underwear. He feels really exposed, and Ray wants to laugh because he can’t be _poop-shy_ , can he? But then his feet buckle underneath him and suddenly Ray falls backward. The first thing Ray expects is to fall into a deluge of sewage and unspeakable grime, but when he lands onto something _bulky_ and _furry_ and _did the something just fucking **moo**_?

“What the fuck?!” Ray exclaims. The _thing_ brays and moos and Ray shrieks as the cow kicks up dirt and cow pie and grass. “A fucking _cow_?!”

There’s the sounds of Ryan scrambling up and getting a torch and running over. “What’s going on!” He yells. “What are you doing down there?!!!”

Ray yelps as the torchlight is brandished and illuminates Ryan’s face, which is a colorful mixture of fury, surprise, and embarrassment.

“I thought this was a makeshift toilet and I-“

Ryan sighs so loud Ray can feel the shame bleed out through his body. Ryan leans forward and offers a hand. “Here,” he says. “I’ll show you where you can go to the bathroom.”

“Um….” Ray looks down in shame. “It’s just been resolved.”

Ray can’t decipher Ryan’s facial expression, but when Ryan silently pulls Ray out of the cow hole, he is instantly pushed back into the water, but the shallowest part. _I just got my clothes dried_ , Ray wants to yell.

“Wash yourself up and come back to bed,” is all Ryan says before throwing the torch back into the campfire and curling up to go back to sleep.


	4. You Named the Fucking Animal?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ray learns things

“Alright what’s with the cow in the hole,” is the first thing that comes out of Ray’s mouth when he wakes up and sees Ryan washing the blood out of his clothes. Ryan’s back is turned to him and the main campfire is a mass of dying embers, smoke wafting up into the sky. Ryan hangs up his shirt on a branch and he’s stalking towards his sleeping area, sighing at Ray’s question.

“Dude,” Ray continues, “when I fell down into that hole with my bare ass in the air I thought I was going to contract tetanus and gonorrhea and whatnot falling in your shit, and I nearly got my ass _trampled_ by a steer so,” Ray gives Ryan the most serious look he thinks he can achieve with his cracked glasses, “ _what’s with the cow in the hole_.”

Ryan sighs again and he rubs his face.

“You friends with that cow?” Ryan continues to sigh.

“You fuckin that cow.”

“I’m trying to figure out the words on how to explain why there’s possibly the only cow on this island in that hole-“ Ryan says, blinking a couple of times.

Ray drops the serious look and he can feel his face slide and his mouth drop in disbelief. “You _are_ fucking that cow.” He finishes and Ryan shakes his head furiously.

“No! Bestiality is illegal in all fifty states!” Ryan bursts out.

“Only a cow fucker would know that fact.”

“Just because I-“

“Look I know being stuck on an island with a bunch of cannibalistic mutants with weird decorating tips and no wi-fi is bad but stick your dick in the _sand_ or something.”

“I do not _fuck_ cows!” A bit of a Southern drawl slips out of Ryan’s tone and he sounds so aggravated that if Ray doesn’t shut up Ryan is going to haymaker punch him into the lake and Ray’s _really_ going to drown.

“Then what’s with the cow?”

Ryan sighs for, what Ray thinks, is the eight thousandth time, and calms himself.

“Edgar is there to protect us,” Ryan begins, but Ray cuts him off.

“ _You named the fucking animal_?”

“Shut up,” Ryan’s blue eyes white dragon glare is cranked to the intensity of nine and Ray shuts his goddamn mouth.

  
“Edgar is the final trap for those guys,” Ryan continues, glare still holding. “In case the noose traps or the spike traps and even the fire traps don’t work then this hole will stop them, and even if it doesn’t, Edgar will be there to distract them.”

 _Distract them_? Ray is confused. “What, does he have dinner party anecdotes?” Ray jokes and Ryan just gives him this look and Ray shuts up again.

“Edgar will be eaten instead of us.”

Ray pouts. “Aww I’m sorry, buddy.” He calls over to the hole. Ryan gets up and walks over to the hole, with Ray following him.

Looking down, Edgar is a standard brown cow, a little malnourished, but the bovine was dutifully chewing dry grass. Ray watches Ryan go to a woven basket filled with grass and he dumps half of it into the hole. Edgar moos gratefully and continues munching on its food, udders lightly swaying under the belly.

Ray blinks. “Edgar’s a girl cow,” he observes.

Ryan shrugs. “Pretty sure Edgar is gender-fluid and doesn’t give a shit about the specific gender roles she was born into.” he answers.

“You’re telling me Edgar identifies as a _man_?”

“Why not?” Ryan smiles wryly and his smile is _dazzling_ and Ray wants to punch him in the face for maintaining wonderful dental hygiene.

“So!” Ryan puts his hands together. “There’s fish roasting on the fire, you need to continue your spear-handling and do you know how to fire a bow and arrow?”

“I beat all of the Call of Duty games on Legendary six times each.”

“I don’t know if that answers my question.”

“I’m King of the Quick Scope on Xbox Live if that means anything.” Ryan doesn’t answer, just heads to one of the four fire pits above the outcrop and brandishes a wooden stick that has charred fish on it.

“Let’s eat!” Ryan calls, and Ray’s stomach agrees.

 

 

 

Ray learns that Ryan is a damn good cook (or living on this island for four years with limited variety has forced him to perfect the methods of cooking). He finishes off two fishes and tries not to ask for another, but before he says anything Ryan is taking another fish from another woven basket and within seconds it’s gutted and skewered on a stick and stuffed with what Ryan tells him is marigold and is roasting on the fire. “Eat to your heart’s content,” Ryan says softly, “you’ve endured a plane crash, survived the mutant caves, and are learning how to be a spear-man. We’ve no set schedule; there’s no rush.” While the fish sizzles, Ray learns all about Ryan. Ryan hails from Georgia but lived in Illinois, and was a software engineer and a web designer. He had a wife with a son who would be five now. What Ryan thinks he remembers is that he and his buddies went kayaking one day and Ryan went off alone in the middle of Lake Michigan and fell down a “mysterious waterfall” [“It was so long ago and it happened so fast,” Ryan explains, “I don’t remember how it happened, but I _fell_ down something and when I awoke…”] and has been here ever since. He isn’t sure exactly where he is and though it looks like the Midwest, Ryan hasn’t been in contact with people and technology in so long he’s open to believing he’s stuck _anywhere_. Ryan is pushing thirty-four and wonders every day if his wife ever moved on and forgot about him.

“The worst thing about being stuck on an island with cannibalistic mutants,” Ryan says as he hands Ray the steaming fish and it tastes better than the last two. “Is the fear of _going mad_ , you know? I’m afraid one day I’ll _snap_ and I’ll forget to shave and clean and light the fires and soon those _mutants_ and I will have a Mexican stand-off, and we know how _that_ will end up.”

“Why’s it gotta be _Mexican_?” Ray jokes weakly, but Ryan giggles happily and looks off into the distance. Ryan tells Ray that he keeps himself sane by following standard morning routines he did when he was living at home: chews bark and twigs from the walnut or dogwood tree to clean his teeth (because there’s no toothpaste or toothbrushes). There’s a giant shard of glass he uses and takes his time shaving once a week. He works out [“dude you lift?” Ray asks and Ryan laughs] and practices his archery. He tries to monitor the patrols of the mutants. “They follow a leader, or a head scout,” Ryan says. “They travel in groups of four or five and they observe the island.”

“What’s the closest they ever been to your camp?” Ray asks.

“They avoid water, so they never come from the way of the drawbridge. From the other way, they come only as far as the traps. They don’t come near the traps. The closest was one straggler who came too close and was the noose trap above the- “Ryan points to the top of the outcrop. “Others get trapped by the spike traps and the dead fall traps. I use them as effigies.”

“Since they monitor the island and travel in packs,” Ray begins.

“Which is occasionally,” Ryan clarifies. “They mainly stalk around as stragglers, “lone rangers” if you will.”

“Do they realize you’re killing them and they get _bolder_?” Ray continues. “Those patrol leaders, I assume they’re like Lieutenants in SOCOM games-meaning they’re unkillable.” Ray adds when Ryan gives him that look again. “I assume they’re harder to kill than a regular mutant, right?”

Ryan nods. “They have exceptional fighting skills,” he says. “I’ve used many tactics: ranged attacks, melee; traps. The only thing that keeps them from me is the water and the fire.”

“Just like Ice-type.” Ryan’s left eyebrow raises. “Pokémon.” Ray simply answers.

“Oh. Shall we begin your training?”

 

 

 

Over the next five days Ray learns how to build and maintain traps, fletch arrows and spear fishing. Every afternoon Ryan and Ray go to a hill that conveniently has the vantage height to scope out the activities of the mutants. From a distance, Ray thinks he can take them, and then he remembers the first encounter. The mutants don’t do much; they stalk around the beach and they stare at the drawbridge, as if it were some complex puzzle they were determined to decipher [“They do this _every week_ ,” Ryan tells Ray, and like clockwork the mutants stare at the drawbridge for several moments, then stalk off.]. If it were up to Ray, he’d camp out on this hill and show Ryan his awesome sniping kills [“dude I can even _no-scope_ these bitches, you should see my Gamerscore.”] but since Ryan has real-life experience and has told Ray that he would _never_ snipe the mutants, even if they were isolated and would never dare to touch him. Ray thinks an opportunity shouldn’t be wasted, no? Because what’s the _point_ of making so many arrows? Ray has a quota of forty-five arrows to make a day, and when he’s done he just puts them in wooden bin that is already overflowing with arrows. “This isn’t the Alamo, you know.” Ray tells Ryan on the twentieth arrow he’s whittling. Ryan is reinforcing a long bow he’s fashioned out of frayed strips of a shirt he’s long since shredded and flexible branches from what Ryan told Ray was from teak but honestly is Ray going to care to _remember_? He’ll leave that task to Ryan; he knows botany. Ryan looks at him and answers, “In any worse-case scenario, when they learn how wade through water or God forbid, _swim_ , and they all attack, those axes won’t take them all down. We’ll need serious fire-power.”

“ _Our arrows will blot out the sun_.”

“Are you _positive_ that you didn’t suffer any serious injuries during that crash?”

Ray comes up with an ingenious idea when he’s sent to look for Twinberries (a poisonous berry that Ryan grinds to rub on bark to keep the mutants at bay, because he says “they don’t like the smell”). He’s on the other side of the island, armed with a basket in one hand, and his spear in the other, he’s exploring one side of a beach he hasn’t seen. The beach is littered with pebbles and sharp stones, and they press through the thin soles of Ray’s shoes. There are a plethora of flat stone chips that make great arrowheads, and Ray collects those in his basket instead of Twinberries. While he braves deeper into the forest back towards the crash site, he’s struck with another idea. “Look at me coming up with new ideas!” He exclaims to himself. “Fuckin Ray Isaac Newton over here.” He hurries back to fuselage, and after checking to see no mutants were nearby, he grabs an empty water bottle he discarded long ago. The fuselage was slowly dripping a viscous liquid that Ray was eighty percent sure that it was jet fuel. _Is it unleaded_? He thinks. _Does it even matter_? Some of drips on his hands as he collects it and it takes a while for it to fill up; the sun was going down and the shadows were lengthening. _Oh fuck hurry up hurry up hurry_ up. He can feel phantom eyes all over him again as the bottle fills up nearly three quarters when he just decides that’s enough and quickly screws the cap on, gathers the basket of stones and literally runs when he hears the rustling of leaves. The evening sky is darkening to an indigo when Ray makes it to the drawbridge. “Man I am freaking _genius_ ,” He says. “They’re gonna name a Call of Duty character after me for being so fucking _meta_ , I’m that cool.” He thinks he’s so cool that even Ryan will forgive him for not collecting berries. Ryan notices Ray has returned and goes about lowering the drawbridge. The bridge uses an archaic timing device where after several seconds the bridge shakily lifts a few inches for a few seconds, and then it suddenly snaps back up in the air like a catapult (Ray had been on the receiving end of the drawbridge once and Ryan had to _catch_ him and Ryan will once in a while ask is Ray is still in the air. Ray wants to prod Ryan’s asshole with the business end of his spear sometimes). Ryan chuckles when Ray sprints across the bridge and makes a relieved sound when it makes a loud clacking noise as it shoots back up in the air, creaky boards rattling high up.

“You get the berries?” Ryan asks.

“Look, I came up with a new thing. Well, not _new_ , but innovative, just watch-“

“Did you get the berries?”

“We need to do something with all of these arrows-“ Ray pulls out the bottle of jet fuel.

“You didn’t get berries?” There’s a bit of petulance creeping in Ryan’s tone.

“Berries can wait Ryan, but look, wait, just wait, I got it, I got it.” Ray takes one of the stone chips and wraps it around the arrow with bit of cloth that wasn’t compatible with the bow. Dripping some of the jet fuel on the cloth, Ray takes one of the bows Ryan made and nocks the arrow, but before he draws he scrapes the stone chip against the outcrop ceiling hard and it sparks and it catches the cloth. The arrowhead erupts into flame and it’s just enough light to catch the surprised glint in Ryan’s eyes as Ray quickly shoots the arrow clear across the tributary and it lands on the other bank, smoldering the wood.

“See? I’m pretty fucking handy to keep around.” Ray smiles. Ryan nods as he sifts through the basket of stones.

“How did you _find_ all of this flint?”

Ray giggles. “ _Flint_ Coal?”

Ryan sighs.

 

 

 

Ryan and Ray go to the crash site to scavenge the plane for more food (though Ray is positive the mutants developed a palette for granola bars and stale airline pretzels) and clothing [“and tennis balls?” Ryan jokes and Ray shakes his spear at him and just frowns.]. While trekking, Ryan asks about Ray’s life.

“You go to college?” Ryan asks. “You look young enough to be a sophomore in the university.”

“Nah, I’m twenty-four, and my family didn’t have that kind of money,” Ray answers. “It would be nice but after high school I was just _done_ you know? I’m not about that life.”

“What did you do then?”

“I work odd jobs; my dad owns a bar and I help him with it. I work at a video games store, you know, this and that.”

“Ah,” Ryan nods. “This is where your nerd knowledge originates.”

“I want to be a competitive gamer, you know? My Gamerscore and my awesome COD montages on Youtube aren’t nothing to sneeze at.”

“Last time I used a computer it was to play Doom 3 and I only played it for thirty minutes; my son had a fit and my wife was too tired to calm him down so I-“ Ryan trails off and his eyes soften. Ray chances to look at him, and sees Ryan staring off into the distance as they continue on.

“You think about your family a lot?” Ray asks.

“Every day.” Ryan answers softly, a sad smile tickling his lips, but it vanishes as quickly as it comes.

“You miss them?”

“I do. I do miss them.” There’s an uncomfortable silence that falls between them, interspersed with the soft crunching of leaves and twigs being stepped on.

“I _do_ want to get off this island,” Ryan murmurs after a while and Ray almost doesn’t hear him. “I want to know if my wife ever waited for me, though if she didn’t I wouldn’t be mad; it’s understandable. I just want to see my son, how big he’s gotten, and if he could carry on even when I wasn’t there. Just seeing a glimpse of my family, still carrying on and living their lives is enough to galvanize me to _get off_ this island.” They make it to the plane crash [Senorita Gang Signs is still bravely defending the fuselage, even if she does look a lot worse for wear] and they silently begin their task of looking for food (Ray finds the secret stash of peanuts and pretzels and warm colas and stuffs them in one empty suitcase) while Ryan finds clothes they can wear or clothes they can tear as strips for more bows. He also inspects the area for bits of metal or electronic parts that he can salvage and tinker with, but finds nothing of great use. When they feel they have enough to carry back to the camp, Ryan quietly says something that Ray doesn’t register at first, but when Ryan’s long strides create a distance between them, Ray realizes what Ryan said.

“But it’s enough though, _to keep me on this island_.”

 

 

 

Evening falls on them quickly and after a quick meal of rabbit Ryan leans back into his sleeping area as the fires crackle heartily beside and above him. Ray curls up nearby, enjoying one of those moments where they don’t have to do anything; they can just laze about and sleep at will.

“You know,” Ray says, “you’re pretty _sane_ for a guy who’s been stuck on a cannibal-infested island and his only source of companionship is a cow in a hole.” He can practically hear Ryan roll his eyes.

“I put one cow in a hole it doesn’t make me a _taxidermist_.” Ryan huffs, but there’s an edge of humor beneath his tone, and it makes Ray smile. He’s almost glad the fire isn’t enough to illuminate his face.

“I mean, if PETA could see you now…”

“You know, I wonder if those mutants _are_ radical PETA members.” Ryan grins and Ray laughs, the image of die-hard PETA members finally snapping and finding a hunger for human flesh going through his mind. _That’s fucked up_ , but he laughs all the same.

“I’m glad you’re here with me,” Ryan says softly, and Ray blushes and curls into a ball. “I swear if your plane hadn’t crashed, I _would_ be talking to Edgar, and she doesn’t carry a conversation.”

“Glad I can be a source of entertainment.”

“Your game references are refreshing, and should we ever get off this island you’ll show me these games, right?”

Ray smiles. “Sure thing, buddy.” He promises.

Ryan situates himself to go to sleep when the fire does its magic when Ray asks him a question.

“What’s the _best_ thing about being stuck on this island?”

Ryan hesitates so long that Ray is positive he fell asleep, but his quiet baritone is enough to make Ray jump.

“Waking up at whatever time you want,” he starts, “and realizing you’ve lived another day. You go through the morning routine of cleaning your teeth and shaving and washing your face and go get up and realize that wonderful feeling that _you don’t have to go into work_. Not having to pay bills, no set responsibilities.” Ryan makes a sound as he rolls over. “I’d ask you what you like about being on this island, but I’m tired. We can talk in the morning.” It takes Ryan seconds to fall asleep, and Ray watches the outline of his body heave rhythmically as Ryan sleeps.

 _The best part about being on this island is being with you_ , Ray mouths silently, and he curls back up to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter is shitty mcshitface mcgillicutty


	5. Maybe Just a Little Homo?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ray and Ryan find the other half of the plane, and then wash off, and then Ray wonders if his asshole is clean. you know. in case Ryan is into that ass-eating thing.

A couple of weeks of learning how to hunt, fish, fight, and build and Ray has almost forgotten about escaping from this island. The thought’s still there, of course; that idea of swimming hundreds of miles out into the water is a dream he has every night, but Ryan has kept Ray busy learning about plants and materials and little bits of Ryan’s personal life. The hope for any sort of search-and-retrieve team being dispatched to find Ray and the plane died days ago, and Ray only looks up in the sky to count the stars with Ryan instead of looking for helicopters and coast guard planes. There’s just _something_ about Ryan that makes something swirl in Ray’s chest and Ray still doesn’t know what that feeling is but he’s not complaining. Ryan’s companionship is comforting, from his guidance on how to properly nock an arrow back to just talking about his early life back when he was a college student to just sitting there neatly eating his food and washing his hands in the water after every meal and never calling Ray out for being a slob. Even if Ryan looks at Ray as if he sprouted a mutant head from his ass whenever Ray makes another inane video game reference (which is all the time), Ryan gets Ray.

Sometimes Ray doesn’t know what to do with all of this free time, so he resorts to eating most of the granola bars or drawing ornately detailed dicks in the sand (and when the water ebbs onto the sand and washes the dicks away Ray laments). One afternoon Ray is left to his own devices and he’s already fulfilled his arrow quota, so he takes a stick and draws a haphazard set of boxes in the sand. It takes several minutes to perfect it, but after half an hour Ray is forming the beginnings of a Tetris run. The electronic version is far easier than the hand drawn version, because re-drawing even the singular rectangle eleven times to form a bigger rectangle is just tiring. It’s tiring enough to make Ray want to kick the stick clear across the tributary and rage quit on Tetris for the rest of his life (what was so fucking great about this game in the first place and why did he like it so much?) but he drops the stick into the sand and makes to kick the sand up to erase the Tetris game. Suddenly Ryan is there with a stick in his hand and he starts drawing perfect Tetris shapes into the sand, resuming Ray’s game.

“It’s been awhile since I’ve played Sand Tetris,” Ryan murmurs as he redraws the Tetris board and stencils in a square. “It takes hours to complete a level, but when you’re concentrating on wondering where to put blocks instead of where a mutant might be hiding and might kill you, it’s… _relaxing_.” Ryan erases the square’s path in the sand and looks at Ray, giving a small smile that has Ray wondering if he’s blushing or if the sun is concentrating all of its heat towards his cheeks and burning him. “Didn’t mean to interrupt your game, but maybe if we tag team we’ll tackle this game, no?”

So that’s how they spent the rest of the afternoon; playing Sand Tetris until the sky turns a deep burnt orange and a deep golden halo engulfs Ryan’s hair for a few moments. It gets a little too dark for them to play and the water keeps washing away their progress but the important thing is that Ray had _fun_.

 _And Ryan looked fucking gorgeous but was that important_? Ryan tosses his hair for no real reason and says he’s going to make dinner and tell him about the time he nearly got sucked into a tornado when he was twenty-one.

Yes, it was important.

A couple of days later Ray and Ryan decide to “explore” the other part of the forest. Ryan admits he doesn’t know what lies ahead, and Ray can see the apprehension written all over his face. It’s enough to make Ray hesitate and he wants to say, “Hey, we can just _not_. Let’s play Sand Tetris again. Let’s go fishing. Let’s jerk our dicks. Let’s do _anything_ except go to that area.” But he abstains when Ryan straps his spear to his back and takes Ray’s fire axe.

“Maybe we can find new resources?” Ryan says. “The other half of the plane, maybe?” So they’re cautiously roaming through the area, hyper-aware of every twig snapping and leaf falling to the ground. There are fresh signs of mutants patrolling here, as there’s an effigy of one passenger’s head skewered to a thick branch with an aged skull stuffed in its mouth; the eyes gouged out and the tongue protruding from the skeleton’s frail jaw. Both tense and wildly look around for any signs of mutants.

“What a great aesthetic,” Ray deadpans, but lets out a curt yet girlish shriek when the branch snaps and the effigy falls to the forest floor. Ryan literally flings himself to Ray as he clamps a large calloused hand to Ray’s mouth to shut him up and Ray is all too aware of the feeling of Ryan’s skin against his face.

“ _Shut your goddamn mouth_ ,” Ryan orders quietly, but it’s enough to make Ray swallow down any screams he has and probably lock his voice away forever. Ray looks over and Ryan’s forehead is maybe millimeters away from touching his, and his eyes….

“Blue euweseahmmhpph whymp frdagn.” Ray tries to talk with his mouth clamped shut.

“What?” Ryan releases his hold and backs away.

“Nothing, nothing.” Luckily Ray’s outburst hasn’t attracted any attention, but Ray bites down on his tongue so he won’t make any noises. He and Ryan continue on for another hour until Ray asks, “do you think I can fart so loud that it attracts the mutants? Because I really need to rip ass and my curiosity _really_ wants to know if mutants know what farts are.”

Ryan gives Ray a sideways glance for a few seconds and just continues walking. Another half an hour and Ray wants to groan and ask “are we there yet?” but the way Ryan’s muscles tightens in his shoulders suggests that if Ray doesn’t keep quiet he’s going to be Falcon Punched across the tributary. There’s signs of something extremely gigantic and heavy being dragged across the forest floor; something so huge it splits tree trunks and topples them over. It doesn’t take long for Ray and Ryan to discover the other half of the plane; the nose of the fuselage crushed and almost buried into the earth. Like in the last half of the fuselage, there’s no sign of the passengers, but there’s a headless and well-rotted corpse of a flight attendant flung over the toppled seats. The stench of dead flesh is overbearing; Ray almost vomits and Ryan’s eyes water at the sight of flies buzzing over the carrion, but Ryan presses onward as he climbs into the plane and heads toward the cockpit, Ray warily following him. The only other body in there is the thoroughly decomposed and (what Ray hopes he’s wrong) chewed up corpse of the co-pilot. Its pilot uniform is frayed and splattered with dried blood and fly guts; most of the stench coming from the co-pilot.

“Why did they leave the co-pilot behind?” Ryan asks, instantly regretting opening his mouth.

“Because co-pilots aren’t important,” Ray tries to deadpan, but the smell catches in the back of his throat and he hacks and it sets off a chain reaction of Ryan coughing and doubling over. Ray’s coughing gets worse and he has to whirl around and heave as he really throws up. Groaning and wiping his mouth, he looks at the contents of his upchucked breakfast and looks at the decapitated flight attendant corpse on the seats. “Hey,” Ray croaks. “Are you gonna eat that?”

Ryan regains his composure as he reaches towards the co-pilot’s lap and retrieves a flare gun. “Can you hurt people with that?” Ray asks.

Ryan shrugs. “It shoots a bolt of fire into the air,” he explains, “and since the mutants hate fire and are literally more flammable than paper, it could prove useful in something.” He pockets it, and tells Ray he’s going to come back later and take a look at the circuitry of the cockpit’s dashboard and see what he can make with it. They spend an hour scavenging through the plane and Ray goes to look into the luggage. The first one he opens is more tennis balls and he practically drop kicks the bag away from him, but his kick is weak and it only travels inches away from him.

“Fuck this stupid US Open bullshit,” Ray grumbles, suddenly furious. He opens up other suitcases and just takes all the clothes, even if they were a few sizes too small for Ryan or they were girl clothing; they’ll find use for them. He’s elbow-deep in the seventh suitcase when Ray’s fingers brush up against something hard and slender. _Oh_? Ray grasps it and his brain tries to figure out what this mysterious object could be, as it’s barely the size of his hand. He yanks it from the cavalcade of ladies’ pantyhose and tennis skirts and blouses and he looks at it. Suddenly he bursts out into a fit of laughter, so loud and raucous Ryan is scrambling out of the plane coming to clamp his hand onto Ray’s mouth again, but Ray quiets his laughter and silently giggles at Ryan’s expression.

“What is it?” Ryan asks warily, eyes darting to the trees for mutants.

“You’ll never believe what I fucking found.” Ray giggles, trying to contain himself because all this laughter reminds him that he _really_ needs to fart.

“What? A phone?”

“No, I wish, but,” Ray just doubles over and starts giggling again. “What are the chances?”

“Ray, _what did you find_?”

Ray holds up the object. “Dude, I found a fucking _vibrator_.”

 

 

 

Ryan instantly takes the vibrator from Ray once they get back to the camp and he throws it into Edgar’s hole. “If you learn how to behave maybe I can climb back down and get it for you,” he says when Ray literally whines and starts a tirade of, “ _hey, I found it; it’s mine! I wanted it because I was looking for one for science! If Edgar swallows it you will have endangered a cow, bruh are you even listening_?” but Ryan holds a hand up to shut him up and Ray’s voice dies off in a pathetic decrescendo.

“Do you think vibrations terrify mutants?” Ryan asks.

“What makes you think that?” Ray counters.

“It’s for science.”

 _What a convincing reason_. “Go climb down and get it back.” Ray points to the hole and Ryan grumbles in reply but he dutifully slides down the hole and Ray tries his best not to stare at the muscles flexing in Ryan’s powerful arms. Just as quickly as he scales down Ryan is back up on the beach, handing Ray the object-now crusted with cow shit- and Ray gingerly picks it up between thumb and middle finger and washes it off in the water.

“I’m going to go to go get lunch started,” Ryan says. “Surprise, it’s fish.” He turns to go start the campfire but Ray begins to stop him.

“ _Wait_.” He blurts out, and Ryan looks at him, eyebrow quirking up.

“Hmm?”

 _Man his eyes are gorgeous_ , Ray thinks, and he wonders why he spoke up. What does he want to say? _Hey your cooking needs to lay off the marigold_? _Bro you need aloe to combat that sunburn on your nose_? _Dude your arms are so fuckin_ jacked? _Every night I think about you curling up next to me and lightly kissing my hair and telling me we’re getting off this island and no homo but I want to tug your dick and ask you if you eat ass_? _Maybe just a little homo_?

“Ray?” Ryan asks. “What is it?”

“I-“ Ray begins, but instead his butthole finally decides it’s the perfect time to release the Kraken. He farts so hard Ray isn’t sure if he’s going to shit himself or fly off above Ryan’s head and land in the lake. He watches in horror as Ryan's’ eyebrows disappear into his hairline and his eyes bulge out in amazement. When the farting ceases, Ray can’t even hear the crash of the waves on the beach over the sound of the blood rushing in his ears. There’s a pregnant pause between the two, and it takes Ray to break it.

“I’ve been holding that in for _hours_ ,” Ray says finally, and Ryan just walks away.

 

 

 

Whether he wanted to take a break from Ray’s shit escapades or he went to go inspect the cockpit once more, Ryan wasn’t there when Ray wakes up the next day. This isn’t unusual, but every time Ray sees Ryan not there he gets a little anxious. He grabs his spear and makes note of the absence of the fire axe and Ryan’s bow. _He’s off hunting, okay, good_. Ray relaxes a bit and goes to toss grass into Edgar’s hole. Standing around listening to Edgar occasionally moo and munch on her grass, Ray figures he ought to make himself useful and go collect Twinberries. He lowers the drawbridge just like Ryan taught him how and scurries across it (and looks back to make sure it flies back up and that the rope to pull it back down is reachable). He is mindful of the path he takes, in case he gets lost, and deviates from the plane wreckage. Twinberries gather nearby the aloe plants, and aloe plants grow deep within the forest; so deep the sunlight struggles to peek through the dense leaves. Ray cautiously looks around and tries to pick them as quietly as he can. Every scurry of a woodland creature has Ray believing it’s a rabbit running away from the warpath of a mutant, and he readies his spear in preparation. So far, nothing, and Ray resumes his task. There’s enough Twinberries to mash into a paste and spread it on four trees, and when Ryan gets back he can show Ray which trees to spread it on. If Ryan isn’t back yet then maybe Ray can make dinner of roasted seagull encrusted with crushed pretzels- or maybe he and Ryan can have a lazy evening and just eat the pretzels and talk about their past. _Or maybe we can just cut the bullshit and naked cuddle in the water_. Ray ought to smack himself in the forehead for thinking such thoughts, but he can’t help it. Ryan is just so _wonderful_ and worthy of praise. Ray was so certain he’d be mutant food by day 3 at the latest, but Ryan has been so patient and encouraging (if not a little bracing) with helping Ray develop defense and foraging skills. He likes to think that Ryan really, _truly_ enjoys his company and doesn’t just tolerate him. That weird feeling emerges in his chest suddenly and Ray really needs to go get himself checked up in case if he’s in danger of a coronary. Oh wait, there’s no doctor on this island. _Shit_.

But just as quick as that feeling comes, it’s instantly gone when Ray looks up and sees a figure not far away from him. It’s too tall to be Ryan, and too slender… and too grimy… and too adorned with aged bones and blood to be Ryan.

The mutant stands maybe fifteen feet away from Ray (even when they’re clear across the tributary, hundreds of yards away from the camp, Ray thinks they’re _still_ too close), and it’s _looking straight at him_. Some strangled cry of terror escapes Ray’s lips, and as a knee-jerk reaction he raises his spear in defense. Was this mutant wanting to duke it out with him, or was he one of those mutants “just curious” about normal human behavior, like Ryan said there were? Ray doesn’t want to find out.

“Stay away,” Ray hoarsely whispers, as the mutant takes what looks to be an awkward and timid step towards him and he makes futile jabbing motions with his spear. Ray realizes the error of his ways when that spear movement seems to be the universal sign of “come at me bro” and the mutant makes a wild swing at him. Ray yells and darts away as the mutant begins his savage swipe technique, each thrust swift but easily avoidable. Ray takes an opportunity to push at the mutant with his spear, and it startles the mutant enough to stumble backward into an unpicked bush of Twinberries. The mutant makes a face as it squishes the overripe berries on the sole of its foot, and it looks down. Ray takes an opportunity to strike and exerting all the force he can, he stabs at the mutant’s face; the pointed end lodging itself messily into one of the mutant’s eyes. There’s a horrified screech of pain as the mutant recoils and tries to blindly grab at the spear in its eye, and a fresh, horror movie-worthy wail emits from its sharp mouth when Ray yanks the spear away out of its face.

“I’ll give myself ten points for that,” Ray breathes when the mutant, still warbling in pain, stumbles to get up, but still wants to fight. It makes pathetic swings at Ray, but it either swings in an entirely different direction, or doesn’t even bother to finish the punch. “Oh, can’t find me now, can’t you, fuckface!” Ray laughs, suddenly overcome with glee. “Fuckin get _owned_ , bruh! Get o-w-n-e-d!” The mutant stands straight up and continues to come after Ray, but he easily twirls away and taunts the mutant with butts from the spear and name-calling. “Oh! Missed me again! Bet you can’t tell where I am now, huh? Am I slightly to the left or am I slightly to the right?” The mutant aimlessly swings at the air, almost not even bothering to come after Ray, but still intent on fighting back. It growls and cries out at Ray, but facing the entirely opposite direction.

“The joke is that you have one eye.” Ray sprints and continues to imitate spear attacks he learned from Final Fantasy, some missing and most of them landing. He figures he ought to kill the mutant before its cries attract enemy support (and Ray really is a weak-ass motherfucker; how he’s handling himself with one is beyond him). Scraping the barbed wire across the mutant’s back, Ray whirls the spear around and brings the head down onto the mutant’s shoulder, and haphazardly stabs the mutant, one, two, _dozens_ of times. The mutant’s cries die off in a gurgled moan as Ray continues his stabbing, the face filled with numerous puncture wounds. He doesn’t stop until one final stab and the body does that uncharacteristic explosion of limbs and guts; its kidney splattering across Ray’s Nike hoodie. The macabre sight doesn’t scare Ray as it used to. Realizing that _holy fucking shit, I killed a mutant by myself_ [ _I’m a big kid now_!] Ray scurries off back to the drawbridge. Ryan is back at camp, stoking a fire and probably wondering where the hell Ray went off. Ryan looks up and notices Ray on the other side of the tributary, brandishing his spear like a soldier from Braveheart. Ryan smiles and lets down the drawbridge for Ray and watches the younger man run across the bridge; his smile sliding off as he notes the bloody state of his companion. Ray thinks, boy, Ryan still looks intimidating and gorgeous even when he’s squeezed into a passenger’s pink Victoria’s Secret track suit and both of his hands are on his hips. _The disapproval and confusion is very convincing with this look_. Ray offers a small smile to dissipate the silence.

“Achievement unlocked: Killed a Mutant for 50 Gamerscore.” Ray says brightly, and Ryan drops that look and lets out a wonderful scratchy laugh that is raucous and uninhibited and it makes Ray want to check and see if his asshole is clean enough.

 

 

 

“C’mon, let’s go wash you off,” Ryan leads Ray back to the outcrop and rummages through the scavenged items for something. Ray makes a move to strip off the hoodie, but Ryan stops him.

“Not here,” he says, his voice sounding-what’s the word- strangled? “Somewhere else.” _Somewhere else_? “Just wait.” Ryan gathers a couple of things, along with his spear, and he motions Ray to follow him. The blood is caking on Ray’s face and he can feel crust on his borrowed clothes, and it’s itching like crazy. _Where is he taking me_? Ray wants to ask but Ryan keeps telling him to stay close and like a lost child, Ray presses up to him and keeps himself near. They bank right instead of left, into one part of the forest that Ryan has explored. Not too long after there’s a tiny clearing at what looks to be at the base of the mountain that Ryan mentioned.

“There’s a high water run-off from the mountain that connects with the lake,” Ryan explains, “and I found _this_ , when I was looking for supplies.”

“Whoa,” Ray has seen a waterfall before (every kid growing up in New York has visited Niagara Falls at least once), and this waterfall is puny in comparison, but it has this magical charm to it, as if it was a private part of Ryan’s life that him and _only him_ was allowed to see. It was at least forty feet tall, and relentlessly poured down water that sprayed all over the tree tops and stones.

“The mutants steer clear from this place,” Ryan continues, stepping towards the pool. “When I want to bathe, or relax, or contemplate life, I come here.”

“It’s,” there’s no other way to describe it, “ _beautiful_.” Ray sighs.

“But! We’re here to _bathe_ ,” Ryan holds up a Ziploc plastic baggie filled with a creamy white liquid.

Ray laughs. “The fuck is that, jizz?”

“It’s hand soap I collected from the plane’s lavatory.”

“Oh.” What a refreshingly boring and valid answer. “Well, at least it’s anti-bacterial.” Ryan nods and begins stripping off that pink track suit. It’s two sizes too small, but Ryan manages to squeeze out of it, and Ray doesn’t even bother playing off his stares when Ryan shimmies out of the pants and his underwear, but when Ryan turns around Ray quickly looks away, mentally noting that yes, Ryan’s dick is bigger. Well that question’s been answered. He hears Ryan step into the pool and submerge himself in the water.

“You know I brought you here so that you can clean yourself, you know,” Ryan calls to him. “I will _not_ sit by and let you accentuate your dirt-like quality, no matter what you want.”

Ray turns and flashes a comical smile. “Well, certainly can’t keep the goods wrapped up any longer, can’t I?” With an exaggerated flourish Ray strips out of his clothing, brandishing his grade-A farmer’s tan.

“That’s a stomach that hasn’t seen the sun in a _decade_ ,” Ryan remarks, but stares on as Ray pulls off his pants and underwear.

“Look on all you want _ladies_ ,” Ray gestures at his body. “There’s plenty of Brownman to go around.”

“Just get in the damn water.” Ray skips over to the pool and cannonballs in. “Kowabunga!”

“Hey, take it easy!” Ryan grabs Ray by the shoulders once Ray resurfaces. “The pool is deeper than you would think.” He guides Ray towards a boulder he can grab onto instead of desperately struggling to stay afloat. “Here,” he pours some of the hand soap into Ray’s palm and tells him to wash what he can, and he turns away to bathe himself. Ray tries his best to wash what he can, careful not to get the soap in his eyes (he’s blind enough as is) and surreptitiously washing has ass while Ryan isn’t looking. Every glance Ray takes of Ryan has his dick straining against the rock he’s pressed against to. Ryan is too busy pre-occupied sitting himself under the torrent of the waterfall to focus on Ray, so Ray allows himself to ogle over Ryan’s rugged manliness, and his imagination runs off before he has a chance to rein it back in and tell it to sit the fuck down. _I will slaughter an entire army of cannibals if it meant to be embraced by those arms_ , Ray thinks. _Wow, toss my salad like your name is Romaine, holy shit, take that fat cock of yours and stick it in me big boy-_

“You okay over there?” Ryan calls over the roar of the water, and Ray squeaks out a yes. He resumes rubbing the blood out of his hair and off his face, and is about ask Ryan I he can give him some more soap when he turns and Ryan is _right_ behind him. It startles Ray and he tries to play it off by asking “you got any more soap?”

Ryan stares Ray down with his cerulean eyes and Ray is very aware of the proximity of their bodies. He can feel his dick suspended in the water, occasionally brushing against Ryan’s thigh. _Okay, well_ , this _is happening._

“You missed a spot,” Ryan murmurs, and Ray goes to ask “where?” but then Ryan does that cliché move and leans over to kiss Ray right on the mouth and Ray falls for it. For all the thoughts Ray has of Ryan, and all of the wishes of them boning each other fireside, he honestly wasn't expecting this. Hoping for, yes, expecting, nope.

Ray hasn’t shaved in weeks, and he has a hearty goatee grown on his face, but he can still feel the scratch of Ryan’s beard on his face, the ingrown stubble rubbing across Ray’s chin as Ryan is _still kissing him_ and Ray _isn’t stopping him_. The contact is hot and the cool embrace of the water has Ray aching for more. He (stupidly, he thinks) breaks off the kiss and looks into Ryan’s eyes, a look in the older man’s eyes that Ray is unfamiliar with.

“Ryan?” He asks, and Ryan takes a large exhale, his breath warm.

“You might want to be a little more _surreptitious_ with your stares, Ray,” Ryan lets out a breathy laugh, and it’s so liberating, he leans back into the water while holding onto Ray’s waist (how’d his hands get there? Ray wonders). “Not going to lie,” Ryan says softly, “I’ve always wanted to do that.”

“ _Kiss me?_ ” Ray feels a little honored.

“Haven’t had human contact in a long time. My right hand isn’t as trustworthy as it used to be. And,” Ryan takes one hand from Ray’s waist and scratches his head. “Kissing, it’s just, I _miss it_ , you know?” The last kiss Ray ever had was an awkward mistletoe kiss from a girl bartender at the Christmas party at his dad’s bar. She was drunk (he wasn’t) and it was chaste and sloppy and tasted of liquor and Ray didn’t want to kiss anyone ever again after that. But being kissed by Ryan was different. That feeling is once again back in his chest and he looks up at Ryan, wordless.

Ryan takes the hint. “Want to do it again?” He asks. “By _it_ , I mean kissing.”

“Fuck yes I do,” before Ray finishes say yes Ryan captures Ray’s lips in a heated kiss, a clash of teeth and a battle of tongues (Ryan’s is stronger) and the scratching of beards. It is like scratching a hard-to-reach bug bite after days of discomfort-agonizing and relieving at the same time. There’s a satisfied moan that tumbles from Ray’s mouth and Ryan swallows it. It just the sounds of water slapping against their skin and their sharp inhales that fill the air, and to Ray it’s the sweetest sound in the world. Their dicks keep bumping into each other, and it galvanizes Ray to reach down and take Ryan’s cock into his hand. Ryan breaks off for a mere second to look down and see what Ray was doing, only to resume kissing, this time with more fervor. The glide is awkward, especially when it’s two dicks being rubbed against each other, but Ryan is thick and heavy in his grasp, and his hips are nothing but compliant to Ray’s strokes, and Ray wouldn’t change it even if he wanted to. Ryan kisses down towards Ray’s Adam’s apple, burying his nose into the crook of his shoulder and groaning as Ray increases his strokes. "Oh _G_ _od_ ," Ryan sighs as he presses himself into Ray, and he's practically _rutting_ against Ray's fist, their dicks on the verge of mashing together.

"We should have done this ages ago," Ray groans, and when Ryan looks up and those blue eyes literally _sparkle_ and Ray goes over the edge too quick and before he can stop himself he's doubling over into the water, coughing and sputtering as he comes against Ryan. Ryan props him up and Ray leans back against the rock, spluttering and gasping for breath and still riding out his orgasm.

"We should continue this on land," Ryan gasps, and Ray looks into Ryan's eyes again, that same feeling comes again and it rushes through his bloodstream and travels all the way from his brain to his toes. When Ryan continues to stroke himself off with Ray, Ray wonders if that feeling could be lust, or infatuation, or admiration. Or love.

Or a cocktail of everything at once.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is what happens when you write a romance scene not because you want to, but because several people ask it of you. And I deliver. ish. #Can'tWriteEndingsToSaveMyLife


	6. No Fair My Controller isn't- My Controller- FUCK I SWEAR I JUST PRESSED X

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ryan and Ray finally become connected; Ray gets in trouble

Ryan is ceaseless and fervent with his kisses. Ray wonders if Ryan is going to go overboard and suck the entire life-force out of him, but the scratch of his beard against his skin and the agonizingly sublime pressure of his lips creating invisible marks on his body is arguably the best feeling in the world and if Ray would be the biggest idiot in the world if he had Ryan stop. Ray is so drunk on lust that he barely registers Ryan literally _carrying_ him out of the pond and guiding them both back to the camp, all the while continuing to embed his mouth into Ray’s collarbone.

“Oh fuck,” Ray’s voice shakes; it rattles through his body and starts a stream of expletives raggedly leaving his mouth. “Fuck, fuck, _fuck_ , oh _fuck yes_ , don’t you ever stop.”

“I wasn’t,” Ryan adjusts Ray in his hold and arrives at the encampment. “Planning on stopping.” But when he halts he lets Ray unwrap his legs from his waist (how did he let his legs _do_ that), Ryan stops his kissing and he breathes heavily and he stares at Ray, reality seeming to hit him. Ray looks back up at Ryan, remembering that they are stark naked and both very, very erect and-

“We left my glasses at the pond.” Ray realizes, each breath he takes is a great one and moves his entire body.

“Our clothes too,” Ryan says. “We should,” he gulps in air. “We should go get them.”

“I’m very fucking useless without my glasses.” A giggle bubbles inside Ray, threatening to come out, but it dies down when he takes in Ryan’s appearance. Ryan is still dripping wet, with twigs and grass sticking to his feet and golden hair clinging to his forehead and sticking in random places (Ray was responsible for that). His lips are swollen red and water droplets course down his skin and trace the outline of his muscles; all collecting down into the thatch of hair resting right on top of his cock. Ray’s vision is blurry as dicks, but he can see Ryan so clearly, can see the way Ryan’s pupils dilate and his bluer-than-blue eyes are a muted ultramarine; his eyes piercing and soft all at once.

“We should get my glasses,” Ray repeats, but neither of them is making any move to go back to the waterfall to go retrieve their belongings.

“We should,” Ryan presses his body against Ray, and Ray can feel, can hear Ryan’s heartbeat crash against his chest, thrumming in his body. Or is it his? Can Ryan feel the tremors that Ray’s heart is creating? Ray can’t focus.

“We should,” Ray parrots back, and takes in Ryan fluttering his eyelids closed as he leans forward. Ray meets him halfway and kisses him slow and sweet, very aware and very conscious of what they’re doing.

 _We should not stop_.

 

 

 

Ray has never seen Ryan light the fires so fast. There’s a methodical process that Ryan follows every night to make sure the fires are strong enough to keep the mutants at bay, and Ryan always reminds Ray to _always be thorough_. But Ryan disregards lighting the effigies and only lights three of the fires. Dark clouds roll in from the east and mutes the light of the setting sun; it hints that it will rain. Ryan is in the middle of lighting the third fire when he notices the sky and disregards the bonfire, practically speed-walking to Ray sitting under the outcrop. Ray has just enough time to react when Ryan almost launches himself into Ray’s lap, smiling devilishly and trailing fingers along the Ray’s sides. He relishes in the shivers Ray doesn’t even bother hiding, latching his mouth onto the mark he was sucking into the younger man’s neck. Ray throws his head back and lets out this sigh that releases all the tension in his body. He feels like he’s sinking into the sand and Ryan is a heavy blanket on top of him. He feels the head of Ryan’s penis press against his right thigh and something in his mind tells him to reach down and touch it. Ryan makes a hum of approval against Ray’s neck when he feels the other wrap awkward fingers around his length, and he can’t stop the bucking of his hips into Ray’s fist. Ryan looks over into Ray’s eyes, chuckling breathily at Ray’s blushing.

“I’ve never known for you to be blushing,” Ryan muses, brushing his nose against Ray’s cheek.

“Well, I’ve never been known to tug another guy’s dick or kill super-beings or go one month without salt but there’s a first for everything,” Ray tries to joke, but he’s cut off by Ryan kissing him fully on the mouth before he can finish his sentence. It isn’t fervent nor rough, but there is a searing heat and a relentless hold that Ryan exudes from his mouth alone, that leaves Ray compliant and willing to receive. The kiss is slow and explorative, both men pressing back into each other as if they can’t get close enough. Ray revels in the woodsy taste of Ryan’s mouth, something he thought he wouldn’t like (because he tried cleaning his teeth with bark but the experience was awful and resorted to using his finger and a passenger’s toothpaste) but it just _works_ for him. His tongue is strong and playful and Ray will never get enough of it. They’ve been at it for so long that when Ryan pulls away Ray remembers to breathe. The agonizing take of air that rips through his lungs is one of the most rewarding feelings on the planet.

There’s a deep rumble from the distance and they both turn to look at the first cold drops of rain hit the sand. It’s a drizzle for a few moments, then picks up momentum when the first bolt of lightning cracks across the sky.

“Well _that_ was a waste of time lighting the fires,” Ryan frowns but it doesn’t reach his eyes. Lightning, rain, and thunder work just as well as fiery effigies; all the mutants will be scrambling to the caves to take shelter from the oncoming storm. The chill of the air and the dampness fills Ray’s lungs and it feels _wonderful_.

“Where were we?” Ryan turns back and goes to kiss Ray, but he looks down between their bodies and falls quiet for a moment.

“Something the matter?” Ray asks.

“We used up all the soap from the plane…” Ryan begins.

“ _And_?”

“… And there’s nothing appropriate enough for lubricant.”

It takes Ray a moment to process the word “lubricant” and realize that oh, Ryan meant _lube_ ( _well why didn’t he say that in the first place_? Ray begins to think but he keeps it to himself).

“Well you know,” Ray says after a pregnant pause. “Spit, you know, um, nature’s lube, yeah, hehe.” He rubs the back of his neck. _Why is he so nervous_? Ryan cocks an eyebrow, and gnaws on his lower lip, worrying the skin. _Hey don’t do that_ , Ray thinks, _that should be_ my _job_.

But then Ryan just shrugs after a while and murmurs, “okay, turn over.”

“What?”

“Roll over. Spread your legs.”

Ray’s mind processes the command, but his body doesn’t follow suit; his knees fail to cooperate when he goes to assume the position. “If you think the method ‘bite the pillow: I’m going in dry’ is going to fly here son, you got another thing coming,” he hears himself saying. “I mean, I want it just as bad as you do, and I can take it, but real talk I’m a _pussy_ and the most sensitive part of my body is my asshole, I’m positive-“

“Shut _up_ ,” Ryan interrupts, and Ray does shut up. “Just lie still.” Ray obeys and lays prone onto the sand, and spreads his thighs apart to accommodate Ryan situated between them. He tells himself not to look back and ask Ryan what he’s doing, because he figures he’s going to get his answer.

He feels the scratch of Ryan’s beard against his ass and he almost jumps up in terror when he recognizes that strong tongue lap curiously at the skin. Some mangled form of “ _what_???????” escapes his mouth, and it just transforms into a keen of approval when large hands spread him apart and hot air ghosts upon his anus. He gently feels the hot air getting warmer, and a feeling of moistness? In his asshole? Something slick and strong and very, very _wet_ slowly probing into him?

“ _Ohhhhhhh_ ,” is all Ray can say as Ryan runs a stripe down his crack, spits, and works up a buildup of saliva and goes on exploring Ray’s butthole. Ray can’t even find any other words to say other than oh because what else can he say in this situation? He focuses on the sensation of Ryan’s beard tickling his skin and that wonderful, sinful tongue probing the great unknown of his anus. He’s clawing the ground and making weird pterodactyl screeches when Ryan _twists his fucking tongue_ and boy he wasn’t aware Ryan was into that.

“C-C-Can I ask you something?” Ray gasps out after a while, and he fails to cover the whine he emits when Ryan slips out, only to jerk up and cry out when Ryan works a finger up there.

“What is it?” Ryan sounds awfully calm for someone who just had his tongue up someone else’s ass.

“Is my-“ Ray muffles a whimper when another finger squeezes past and two fingers are slowly pushing themselves deeper.

“Is your what?” Ryan whispers.

“Is my asshole clean enough?”

Ryan pauses. “Is _that_ what you were doing back there a couple hours ago?” He asks.

“Eh, figured I was like Machop and learned Foresight at Level 22, so is it?” Ryan sighs and doesn’t ask for Ray to explain that game reference and goes back down to continue his ass-exploring while Ray resumes squirming and gasping at the strange (but wonderful) feelings. He feels a third finger struggle to burrow itself inside with the others, and feels Ryan’s tongue slip out to give more room for three fingers. There’s another feeling that seeps into his blood and Ray realizes that Ryan is taking great measures to make sure that the next step won’t be so painful. He’s touched, if not smitten.

“Oh, _god_ ,” Ray sighs as Ryan trails his tongue up his spine (that wasn’t promised in the brochure but wow ten out of ten would recommend). “Please, I can’t take it anymore.”

“Do you want me to _stop_?”

“No! No, not at all,” Ray softens his tone. “Please, _I’m ready_.”

Ryan stops the thrusting of his fingers, and slowly he pulls away. When Ray turns around he notices the solemn look in Ryan’s eyes.

“Are you _sure_ about this, Ray?” Ryan asks quietly.

“Weren’t your fingers just up my asshole like ten seconds ago?” Ray whispers back.

An amused, light-hearted smirk plays across Ryan’s lips and Ray thinks, wow, that’s hot, keep that look please and he leans forward to capture the younger man in a kiss. Ray ought to grimace because yuck, _ass_ _germs_ , but Ryan’s kiss is so sweet and endearing and that swirly feeling is erupting in his chest and it’s intoxicating that Ray just pushes past it.

“To think,” Ryan murmurs, “that a month ago you were screaming and throwing tennis balls at mutants and calling me ‘blue eyes white dragon’, now look at us.”

Ray chuckles. “Guess you can call us the _R & R Connection_.”

“Don’t ruin the mood.” Suddenly Ryan lifts Ray’s leg’s up in the air and pushes them forward, and Ray’s never taken yoga and he failed gym class twice so he groans at the stretch. He adjusts as he rests his heels on Ryan’s broad shoulders, and tries to relax as he watches Ryan slick his cock with spit and press the head against his anus. Blue eyes lock onto brown and Ryan softens his gaze.

“You ready?” He asks.

“Let’s get this party started,” Ray deadpans, and lets an unabashed groan of discomfort and relief as Ryan _finally_ , after weeks of pining, enters him inch by agonizing inch.

Ray has never tried anal before, and never thought he would ever try it, but every experience is a learning opportunity and he remembers the old saying “don’t knock it before you try it.” So anal! It’s a strange experience. Ryan’s dick is far bigger than his fingers (maybe Ray should have egged him on and told to fist his asshole just to prep him or something because) _holy fuck_ he is huge. A strangled gasp of pain escapes his lips and Ryan is halfway sheathed in him when he stops so Ray can adjust.

“Are you shoving a _Coke can_ up my ass?!” Ray grits out.

It’s Ryan’s turn to be cheeky and he raises his hands up in the air as he pushes in another inch. “Look ma,” he jokes. “No hands.”

“Jesus you’re huge.”

“Thank you? Do you need a moment?”

 _I need a lifetime_. “Just give me a minute.” Ray tries to relax his muscles and he clenches around Ryan’s length, getting used to the girth. They stay in that position for a moment in silence.

“So,” Ryan says. “How are _you_?”

“Oh fine, peachy keen, just had a tongue up my ass now it’s a dick, and you?” Ryan snorts and takes that as Ray finally adjusting, and when he fully seats himself inside Ray, he starts to thrust slowly. Ryan is careful and methodical with making sure Ray feels all of him while making sure he’s not uncomfortable. The discomfort eventually subsides and Ray is gripping Ryan’s forearms, as if egging him to go faster. Ryan gets the hint and quickens his pace, setting up a rhythm that sends waves of pleasure coursing throughout Ray’s body.

“Oh _wow_ ,” Ray sighs, moaning wantonly. “So _this_ is what the gays are fighting for.”

Ryan snorts and leans forward to silence Ray with a chaste kiss. “I’m pretty sure that’s _not_ what they’re fighting for, but I can see why they like it.”

“You’re amazing, you know that? I just- oh. Oh my _god_.” Ryan cants his hips upward and he brushes up against this spot in Ray that has him biting his lip and seeing bright colors. “Oh fuck, oh fuck,” his right hand drops down between them to stroke his cock erratically. Ray has no rhythm and he’s not going to bother matching Ryan’s thrusts.

The sensations are wonderful; Ryan just knows where to angle his thrusts, what amount of pressure to apply. When Ryan grabs Ray’s hips and increases his pace, Ray struggles to, and eventually fails to contain his moans. He’s raucous and loud and fidgety, begging for Ryan to fuck him into the sand. “Make me your sand whore!” Ray slips out, oblivious to what he’s saying, and if Ryan ever comprehends what Ray said, he never shows it. If anything, he’s losing his cool; thrusting fast and erratically and burying his face into the crook of Ray’s neck as he humps desperately into Ray.

“Oh god,” Ryan moans, and it’s muffled, but it sounds clearer than birdsong to Ray and it’s more than enough for Ray’s toes to curl as he shoots his load far too early. He’s too wrapped up in Ryan fucking him into oblivion to care.

“You’re so wonderful, Ray,” Ryan’s voice is breathy as he bottoms out, and his thrusts are staccato and punching. Four more precise thrusts into Ray’s prostate Ryan groans loudly as his hips stutter when he spills into Ray, going boneless and slumping onto Ray’s body. Ray groans as his ankles are practically by his ears and the combination of his come gluing him and Ryan together and Ryan’s warmth filling his insides has him beyond spent. The sounds of their pants fill the night air, and it sounds loud even amongst the claps of thunder and the heavy rain. Ryan slowly pulls out after a minute, and rolls off Ray onto his side. The fire does nothing to amplify Ryan’s features, but Ray can tell that Ryan is more than content, and that there’s a satisfied smile plastered on his gorgeous face.

“How was it?” Ryan asks after a while, when Ray is fighting not to fall asleep after one of the best orgasms of his life.

“Twelve out of ten, would highly recommend to even my grandma,” Ray breathily jokes, and lets out a shaky laugh when Ryan laughs and leans over to kiss Ray’s hair. He softly strokes Ryan’s arm and lets Ryan wrap his arms around him, nuzzling his face into the older man’s bicep. He feels himself drifting off and the touch of Ryan’s lips on his head. Maybe he tries to murmur, “I love you; no homo,” but he doesn’t remember if he finishes the sentence as he falls asleep.

He does remember thinking the first three words.

 

 

It is still raining when Ray wakes up the next day. He realizes he’s sore, disheveled, naked, and alone. There’s a one-night stand joke he wants to make but when looks down and sees the dried come on his stomach he frowns instead.

“What happened last night?” He asks. “Ohhhhh. Oh. Oh we.” His eyebrows disappear into his hairline and he’s aware of his sub-par eyesight. _We left my fucking glasses in the middle of a fucking rainstorm_. He doesn’t feel as angry as he thinks he is.

There’s idle splashes coming from the beach and Ray gingerly gets up to go investigate. The sight is hard to make out, but he can tell by the figure in the water that it’s Ryan.

“My sleeping beauty has awoke,” Ryan calls and Ray can’t stop the blush rising in his cheeks. “Flushed and flowered and exposed to me and _only to me_.”

“Okay your fancy talk can stop,” Ray smiles as he rubs his eyes. He can hear Ryan emerge from the water and approach him.

“Here.” Ryan hands Ray his glasses. “I went back to the waterfall and got them for you.”

“Thanks,” Ray puts them on and is happy that his eyesight, though still minutely impaired by the crack in the lenses, is vastly improved. Ryan is naked as he is, dripping wet and erect and _smiling_.

“I caught us breakfast,” Ryan gestures at the hand-woven net in the sand, still writhing with the fresh catch of silver fish in its hold. “I was going to surprise you with breakfast in sand, but, to greet you with a kiss…” He slyly smiles and Ray wants to wipe that grin off his face with his own mouth, so he does just that. Ryan’s kisses are passionate enough to leave Ray’s glasses askew on his face. When they part, that dazzling smile is still there and Ray vows to wipe it off harder with more kisses.

“It’s raining, and the mutants are still hiding in their cave, and you and I are naked,” Ryan lists off as he reaches down to palm Ray’s erection, chuckling at the younger man’s groan of approval. “What better way than to spend this day fucking you back into the sand?” Before Ray gets to make a crude remark, Ryan literally scoops him up and takes him back to the outcrop, where he does fuck Ray back into the dirt, and that’s honestly the best morning Ray’s ever experienced in his life (save for the PS3 his mom got for him Christmas 2009).

To say their productivity has decreased would be false. They still light the fires, hunt for food, monitor the mutant patrols and gather Twinberries, along with Ray’s training with spear and bow.

They just do a whole _lot_ more fucking now, and that cuts into training time and scavenging time and sometimes eating time, but they still _do_ work, and Ray is still learning new things. Like Ryan’s most sensitive spot is the dip below his shoulder blade, that dick-sucking is an art form, and that while Ryan prefers roasted rabbit, he’s got a thing for ass-eating. Between the three weeks that have elapsed since this little “thing” between them blossomed, they’ve worn clothes maybe twice. And that was just to check if the passengers’ clothing fit them. They do, but Ray rather have Ryan out and about stalking the woods with his dick out. “I can totally see why people dig the nude colony culture,” he remarks. “No bothering asking “hey does this shirt go with these socks” because all that you’re wearing is your birthday suit. Man, this is a thing I should have been embraced into _years_ ago.”

Ryan laughs as he folds the clothes. “Well it is, but when the winters come and we need to bundle up to keep warm from the cold air, then what?”

Ray is taken aback. “We light fires,” he tries to answer, “and we _cuddle_.”

Ryan pulls Ray close to his side and ruffles his hair. “That,” he says, “ _and_ bundle up.” He continues his clothes folding, but he doesn’t notice Ray’s reluctance to help.

 _What do we do when the winters come and we need to bundle up_? Ray says to himself. _What makes him think we’re staying on this island_? “Ryan,” he speaks up, and Ryan looks at him.

“Yes?”

“You know, I’m _still_ getting off this island.”

Ryan stops his folding and sits there, his stare boring into Ray. “Are you now?” He asks, tone flat and emotionless.

Ray suddenly feels uncomfortable. “ _We_ ,” he corrects, “ _we_ , are getting off this island.”

“There’s no way off-“

“There has to be a way, Ryan, you just haven’t _looked_ for it-“

“Ray!” Ryan is suddenly in Ray’s face. “There is _no way_! Don’t you think I haven’t _tried_ everything?”

“The area you said that is by the other part of the forest, you said you’ve never been over there, maybe that way can be-“

“I _have_ been over there; that’s where the caves are!”

“Why won’t you sneak past that and go beyond?”

There’s a pained expression on Ryan’s face, and if Ray’s not mistaken, horror as well.

“Do you remember what you saw in those caves?” Ryan asks quietly.

“The dead passengers, debris, luggage, skulls…”

“There are more than just standard cannibal mutants, Ray, there’s much more monstrous things down below and beyond in that part of the forest. There’s no way to navigate or determine how many more of those things are in there. I have you make those arrows every day because I’m not sure on the sheer numbers but eventually we will be overrun by those things and every arrow will most likely not be enough to stop them.” Ryan takes a breath. “The first month I got on this island, I was captured by mutant scouts. Why they didn’t eat me right away, I don’t know, but I was taken to their cave, down in the inner bowels; where they breed- yes, they breed,” he adds when Ray’s jaw drops.

“Fuckin’ _mutant babies_?” He exclaims. “The mutants are fucking each other? And reproducing?”

“It’s like you said, there’s no wifi to pass the time so what else do they do? They are spawning, and they are… experimenting.” Ryan shudders, but he continues. “When I came to, it was so dark, it took me hours to get used to it, and I could make out this form, birthing the babies…it was….” There’s a fraught look of terror that causes Ryan’s eyes to shine a sky blue and Ray’s never seen him look remotely apprehensive, much less _scared_ , but Ryan is unbelievably terrified just thinking about it.

“When I escaped, I ran deeper into that side of the forest, and there’s, _hundreds_ , if not more, of those creatures. They chased me for days, they’re _guarding_ whatever’s beyond the forest, and I couldn’t go and figure out if it’s the actual way out.”

“Why not build a raft out?”

“Prior to the plane crashing there were no adequate supplies to build even a basic sail. Rabbit skins sewn together was too heavy for the wind, stone pickaxes were too weak to chop down logs, and even if it did chop them down, how would I carry it back to camp? How would I find time to work at it so it would float? And if I did make a raft that floated and caught wind and sailed me away from this hellhole, what if I get sucked back in _whatever brought me here in the first place_? What if it was a vicious cycle? What if that the reason why no search and rescue has not come for the plane nor us is because by all accounts this island should not _exist_?” Ryan puts his hands on Ray’s shoulders.

“I’m so afraid to find out what’s beyond the island, if I am doomed to live in constant fear as I continue to keep those at bay and think of a grand master battle plan that even after four years I _still_ don’t have one. I’m so afraid that we can’t get off this island.” He holds Ray close to him, and Ray takes in the shaky breaths Ryan inhales to calm himself.

“Ryan,” he begins. “I won’t allow you nor I to be stuck here for the rest of our lives until those freaks come and get us. I don’t care if we have to swim ourselves off this island, but enough is enough. There’s a world out there that we need to return to, that we _belong_ to. I miss my old life, I miss toothpaste and ice cubes and alternative rock stations and even paying rent. I miss the sights of other people that _don’t_ look like they eat other people. I miss video games and pizza. If I didn’t have you I’d be fucking mutant meat by day two at the latest. You mean a lot to me and I can’t allow you to be stuck here reenacting the Battle of Five Armies with actual threats. I want you to live a life that could make you feel at ease.” He looks up and Ryan a soft look. “You _need_ to get off this island. You _need_ to see your family.” The mention of his family makes Ryan freeze and he looks away. Is that shame in his eyes?

“We have the necessary tools to build a raft now, no?” Ray continues. “So let’s do it. You have an extra hand- okay, maybe you’ll do most of the work and I’ll just watch,” he adds when he sees Ryan’s expression, “but _we_ can do it. What’s the harm in trying?

“We _have_ to get off this island.”

Ryan is quiet for a while, and Ray feels that he’s going to raise an argument and say that staying is the best option, but then:

“It will take a while,” Ryan slowly begins, “and figuring out how to make a structurally sound raft that is sturdy to survive the voyage. I’ve never built a boat before…”

“If you can build a fully-functioning drawbridge then you can fashion several logs together to make a raft. We don’t have to do right at this moment, but it has to be our goal. Be honest, aren’t you _sick_ of shitting in bushes?”

“Grew accustomed to it,” Ryan wryly smiles, but he nods. “It is time for another go at leaving, eh? So let’s get started. Let’s get off this shithole island.”

 

 

Ryan doesn’t immediately get started on making preparations for the raft, but he does spend more  time alone drawing diagrams in the sand that Ray can’t comprehend, but assumes it’s just him making grand plans on some wooden speedboat he’s dreaming up. Three days after their talk, Ryan begins chopping down trees and dragging the logs back to camp. It takes him half the day to chop one down and drag it back himself (because Ray tried to help once and almost got crushed in the process), and an entire morning the next to chop it up into pieces. With Ryan preoccupied with building the raft it falls to Ray catching food and scavenging the rest of wreckage for things that could aid in the building of the raft. Sometimes Ray runs into mutant outlaws who have no one to back them up and he tries to kill them with Shadow Strike stabs like they do in World of Warcraft but mutants have a high Sneak ability than he does so it doesn’t work. But he still manages to kill them, returning with blood staining his body and a shit-eating grin upon his face, because returning back to base all bloody means water sex with Ryan. Works every time.

“Don’t get too cocky,” Ryan says after he dries off Ray with a careworn Grateful Dead T-shirt. “Killing a couple of isolated mutants doesn’t make you an expert, and it doesn’t make you ready.”

“I’m not,” Ray counters. “I’m only applying what you’ve taught me. Rule number one: _always expect a fight_. Those guys want to go Super Smash Bros on me and I retaliate.”

Ryan sighs. “I just get so _worried_ that you might run into a horde and I’m not there to back you up,” he says, and when Ray answers with silence, Ryan goes back to sewing the sail for the raft. In the past two weeks, Ryan has fashioned a base of two trunks split into four logs and a mast for the sail. It’s crude, but sturdy enough to survive a long journey. Ryan consistently drags it to the water to test its buoyancy, and though Ray insists that yes, it floats, it can support their weight, Ryan still experiments and then makes minor adjustments. The mast of the sail is made from the leftovers of the passenger’s clothing, and it’s mainly strips of pants and blouses (and one hoodie that wasn’t “cool” enough to wear, according to Ray) and Ryan uses the thread from unraveled shirts to stitch them together with a rabbit’s rib bone. Every time he finishes sewing a piece to it, Ray takes it from and throws it on top of them so they can fumble underneath and bone each other. Ryan always groans in exasperation but it’s short-lived when Ray blows him underneath the sail and then he’s fully cooperative.

In the next couple of days Ray sets off to go revisit the plane wreckage. He shoulders his spear and pockets the vibrator (“I’m taking it in case I run into a mutant and your theory of them afraid of vibration is true, _not_ to stick up my ass and think of you.” Ray explains when Ryan raises an eyebrow at him and gives this ‘Horton hears a bitch-ass liar’ look) and heads off back to the fuselage. The path is so familiar to Ray and he strides the area in confidence, knowing where not to step and what makes the least amount of sound when he treads in the forest. In a couple of hours he’s back at the fuselage. Everything is like he left it weeks ago, save for Senorita Gang Signs is a congealed mass of rot, flies, and decayed flesh; her body reeks and Ray pulls the collar of his shirt up to shield his nose. There isn’t much to collect to bring back (unless he wants to pack tennis balls- and he doesn’t) so Ray is left to his thoughts. He never would have believed that he was capable of surviving a plane crash, surviving cannibalistic mutants, learning how to survive, and after nearly two months on this island, Ray still struggles to believe it. He’s impressed with himself that he can defend himself, and he feels confident and less anxious about the outside world. Maybe this island did offer him some good that New York couldn’t, but he’s excited to finally get off this island. “Good riddance,” Ray chuckles to himself, and looks up into the trees, and his smile slides off his face.

Up in the boughs is a small effigy, so small that Ray is impressed for noticing it. It’s a lone head, eyes removed and thoroughly decayed. It’s stuck to a stick and something in its mouth catches the light of the sun, which upon further inspection concludes that it’s a camera. The few effigies that Ryan taught Ray about were the ones where mutants leave signals for other mutants, and if Ray remembers, anything bright stuck in the mouth of a head means _You’re Being Watched_. Looking down the tree there’s another effigy, slightly larger but easy enough to miss if you’re not aware, is the torso (probably from the same body as the head); its abdomen split open and gutted, only to be stuffed with aged skulls. Ray can hear Ryan’s disembodied voice in his explaining the nearest effigy closest to base, and this one is the same as that. _There’s Food Nearby_. Ray has just enough time to wield his spear and prepare to defend himself when from the brush comes a mutant, tall, well-built, and looking like he can handle himself in a fight.

“Okay,” Ray breathes, “just one? I can handle that-“ a female mutant, adorned in a necklace of scratched CDs and feathers, emerges from the shade of the trees. “ _Two._ Two mutants.” Something rustles from the tops of the trees and Ray chances to look up and see several figures scale down the towering trees in rapid succession.

“Eight.” The number comes out in a horrified whisper. The spear feels like a mere toothbrush in Ray’s hands. “ _I just get so worried that you might run into a horde and I’m not there to back you up_ ,” is what he remembers Ryan saying to him once.

Steeling himself, Ray brandishes his spear in the coolest fighting stance he remembers. “Alright,” he says to himself. “I can take one at a time. Bring it.” That confidence instantly disappears when the biggest, meanest looking mutant approaches with all the bravado of a high school bully and Ray shrinks back, unable to do or say anything. He then remembers the vibrator in his pocket and he scrambles to reveal it, confidence rising in minute levels when the mutant hesitates to take another step when the sex toy is pointed at him.

“ _Do you think vibrations terrify mutants_?” Ryan’s voice is back in Ray’s head. Well, couldn’t hurt to find out. He presses the on button and grasps it tightly and waves it as the vibrator buzzes noisily in his hand. There’s a moment of confusion that every mutant shows, and Ray thinks, it might be working-

Until the bully mutant lets out this _roar_ and all of the mutants crouch low to attack and some sprint forward.

“Fuck his scientific hypotheses!” Ray yells and drops the vibrator and runs, hoping that he can make it to the drawbridge, but two mutants are in his path and their claws and teeth are bared, ready to attack. Ray has no choice but to fight.

Using tricks he learned from Ryan and from video games Ray focuses on incapacitating the closest mutants. It starts to work when three stumble and struggle to push past the spear, but then it all goes south when  the other mutants gather round and swipe at Ray, focusing on knocking him off his feet. The bully mutant charges at Ray and Ray barely has enough time to pull his spear up for defense to stop the charge.

The bully mutant’s fist connects with the spear and the sound of wood splitting in half is so loud in Ray’s ears. He looks for a split second in horror as the most trusted weapon Ryan has given to him (and it was his first gift, too) splinters and breaks clear in two. Trying not to lose this fight, Ray whirls both ends of the spear and tries to do a rapid stabbing move that he just created up on the spot, but each hit either lands in a superficial spot that doesn’t slow the mutant down, or he misses entirely. He sidesteps away from two mutants trying to flank him and take him by surprise. _This fight is going nowhere, I need to retreat_. Ray tries not to panic, but fear seeps into his veins and courses all throughout his body; his run is awkward and he keeps tripping on stones and exposed roots.

The bully mutant chases after him, intent on beating his ass and Ray’s crying “ _stop the bullying_!” but whether the mutant understands English is irrelevant as it keeps on coming after him, darting behind trees and trying to surprise Ray. Ray decides (stupidly, if he reflects back on it) to just weaken the mutant and retreat back to the camp, so he whirls around and tries to reenact that dual-blade stab combo he saw Altair do in Assassin’s Creed. It works when there’s only one enemy to deal with, but when there are _three more_ literally waiting behind the first and intent on killing, it’s useless. Ray realizes his attempts at fighting are futile when he drops his guard and the mutants take a moment to strike; an expert swipe of claws rip at his shirt and he can feel the sting of fresh drawn blood from his chest.

“That’s not fair! No fair my controller isn’t- I JUST PRESSED X WHAT THE-“ A fist uppercuts Ray and he’s literally launched off his feet, the last sight he sees is the blue sky peeking through the dark green leaves and then his world darkens as he hits the ground.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> struggling to finish this before I leave for Korea because if I don't there won't be an ending until at least 10th of November
> 
> (yooooo I'm proud of that thing I arted and Ray and Tina like it so ^________^)


	7. I'm Going to Kill Them All

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ray and Ryan get off the island in a stylish fashion

Something scratchy and serrated digs into Ray’s ankles and suspends him several feet up in the air. Muscles creak and ache as he comes to (or he thinks), eyes struggling to open. It’s dark, so dark that he isn’t sure if he’s right side up or not. The consistent pounding in his head and his glasses dangling off his face confirm that yes, he’s upside down, hanging from some primitive rope, and said rope fucking hurts. Maybe he moves his body back and forth to test the tensile strength of the rope (or if to break free) but he’s unaware how far of a drop it is (and he’s upside down so he’ll land face-first and be in the running for the Darwin Awards’ Strangest Death of the Year), and he’s too weak. _Everything_ hurts, even the twitching of his fingers are too much for him. He doesn’t even try to attempt lifting himself up to generate blood-flow back to the rest of his body.

 _How long have I been here_? Ray wants to ask, but he knows there’s no one around to answer, and if there were, he wouldn’t like the outcome. _How did I get here? Who brought me here_? That last question he’s confident who brought him here. There’s a dampness to the air that chills him stark and he shivers.

 _I’m in the caves again_ , Ray deduces. _I think. It feels like I’m alive, unless death itself is this painful._ He tries again to look into the darkness, but it remains a constant obscured void. There are noises in dark; some faint, distant, others seem to come from right under him. What freaks Ray out so much is that he can’t tell what or who is making them, and if whatever is making them, do they know he’s right above them? It feels like hours, but it must be minutes elapsing as Ray tenses up whenever a foreign sound emits from under him and he’s unsure if his heart can take on the stress.

 _Whatever it may be, all I know is that I’m going to die_ , Ray thinks, and he ought to be sad, but he’s more resigned than anything. _I lived a good life? Acquired a 375 000 Gamerscore, survived a plane crash, became spearmaster of the island, had multiple sexual affairs with a guy, not many can say that_. If he had the chance, he would at least like to say goodbye to Ryan. _What was the last thing I said to him_? Sorrow finally creeps up on him when he realizes he can’t remember. _Is Ryan looking for me_? Is the last thing he thinks before pain overcomes him and he just passes out.

 

 

It’s the sound of the “rope” groaning and snapping as it finally gives in to Ray’s weight that has him open his eyes back to the darkness, and for him to drop from the ceiling and land right on his back in a dusty _thud_. It takes every ounce of willpower for Ray not to cry out in pain as he’s certain some body part is surely dislocated and his back is in a vice grip of agony. Some dry, scratchy groan escapes his lips and he tries to brace himself in case something (or someone) hears him. Those mutants have to have night vision; how else do they live down here? _Those motherfuckers know where I am_ , Ray thinks, _so why aren’t they coming to eat me_?

Something skitters behind (or is it in front) him and he’s in too much pain to wonder what it is as he passes out once more.

 

 

A combination of hunger and thirst arouses Ray for what he’s hoping for the final time. It feels like it’s been an age, waiting for some creature to come drag him deeper into the bowels of the cave and dismember him and turn him into Puerto Rican soufflé. It’s an off and on feeling that Ray is prepared to die, but he doesn’t want to, but he knows it’s inevitable so he’s just waiting for those mutants to fucking hurry up and eat him because dying of malnutrition is the exact opposite of what he’s prepared for. What galvanizes him to get up and try to walk (emphasis on try; his ankle is most likely sprained) is he’s curious as to what’s around. “Hello?” He rasps, and then he wonders if mutants know basic English greetings (they certainly hate sports). Nothing.

His ankle is killing him and he tries to hobble to the nearest cave wall, but he can only get so far on an injured ankle and stumbling around in the darkness. Noises, faint and distant, are all around him, and there are several growls and sounds of feet scurrying.   _Excuse me,_ Ray says to himself, _pardon me, sorry for stepping on your foot, excuse me, I’ll just be on my merry way_. Where the hell is he going? Why is he still trying to navigate the caves? Didn’t he just spend an eternity preparing himself to die? His injured ankle suddenly clips on a boulder and with a dry, scratchy moan of pain Ray collapses onto the pebbly ground. _This is it_ , Ray thinks as he feels one hundred knives stab at every tendon and vein in his foot. _Those fuckers are coming after me_. He closes his eyes (and almost laughs because what’s the point it’s dark either way) and waits for any mutant to come and turn him into man stew. But when he opens his eyes after a few minutes, he’s surprised to see the feeble flicker of flames bouncing off the cave walls. It’s been, what feels like days, since Ray’s seen light, and the feeling of his pupils contracting burns, but it’s a welcome feeling. There’s a moment of relief and hope that slowly seeps through Ray’s body, and he thinks that it might be Ryan, bravely navigating the caves to find him (and then Ryan finding him and carrying him bridal-style and kissing him passionately and waves crash against them out of nowhere), but whatever hope he has inside is instantly gone when he turns to look to see who is responsible for the light.

It’s a colorful mixture of horror, disbelief, fear, and despair that bleeds in varying intervals in Ray. His mouth slides into an ungracious gape as he takes in the sight. Ray would have thought, after surviving a plane crash, navigating through the caves once, seeing all sorts of gruesome and unspeakable horror, _nothing_ would ever phase him, but this… This is new. There are three mutant patrol leaders, each wearing careworn flashlights around their necks (this is where the light was coming from), but what has Ray’s focus is what they’re flanking. With its height a good three feet taller than the mutant scouts, and with six legs instead of two, and a torso that looked as if three were melted together, the product of all of Ray’s nightmares combined stomps between the creatures. _What the_ fuck _is it_? The “thing” has no face, but two skulls pressing its “face” against the taut skin; shaking its head from side to side.

Is this what Ryan was talking about, seeing things on this island that make even the most unfazed man on the planet terrified? The thing is unbelievably scary, no doubt, but from what Ray can see the thing has no eyes, so it can’t _see_ him, right? He’s not going to find out. The mutants don’t notice him, which is strange (but Ray’s not going to stop them and ask “hey man do you not notice me? This hot piece of ass?”) but Ray figures luck is starting to shine his way and afterwards he’ll sneak his way past the mutants. It’s risky, but if he can do it in Spyro 2: Ripto’s Rage, Call of Duty, and Assassin’s Creed, he can do it here.

He starts to get up (ignoring the pain lancing up his leg), and lets out a shaky breath to steady himself. At that instant, two of the three mutant scouts hear a pebble scatter across the cave floor and they turn around, seeing Ray in a half-crouch, and as far as Ray was concerned, one of them did a _double take_ when the realize they passes by prey. Instantly their confusion transforms into fury as the giant freakish tri-mutant turns with the rest of the mutants, raises its hind legs (or side legs?), exposing its ass to Ray. Ray would laugh except the meta mutant lets out this window-shattering shriek that rattles Ray’s pupils and these high-pitched squeaks escape his mouth and he can’t control it. _Oh shit_. The mutant scout leading the meta mutant leaps onto the back of the larger creature and roars. _Oh double shit_.

“ssssSPIDER JOCKEEYYYYY!” Ray yelps as the mutants begin to charge. He ought to run, but a bolt of agony racks through him and his leg just won’t move despite all efforts. Frozen with fear, Ray puts up his weak-ass fists in final defense as the mutants begin to charge.

And then they just _stop_ when a gigantic _boom_ , so loud it rattles the cave ceiling, sounds. There’s another _boom_ , this one a bit more distant but distinct, sounds off mere seconds after. The mutants freeze, but the freakazoid mutant ass spider thing (whatever the fuck it is) doesn’t stop its shrieking. They look behind them and ponder for a moment as a clamor of noises and rumbles follow. Something is genuinely wrong, and whatever it is, it’s enough for the mutants to disregard Ray and charge off into the dark.

 _Huh_? Ray watches the light fade in the tunnels. _They’re leaving the caves. I need to follow them_. He’s not going to sit around and wait for them to come back. The pain in his ankle is becoming a bit more tolerable (or is this just adrenaline pumping through his veins) so he half runs, half stumbles through the caves, chasing the light of the mutants. Whatever is making the caves shake is causing other mutants to scurry from their burrows or holes outside. Some bypass Ray and some see him, but the imminent danger all make them ignore him. Food is secondary to safety. They all follow the path of the mutant scouts and in a crowded hurry they rush out of the caves, Ray following suit.

It’s so dark outside that the only reason why Ray knows he’s out is the rustle of the trees in the wind. A violent gust of air blows through the leaves and an angry _whoosh_ echoes throughout the forest. Ray strains his eyes and he can see that not too far, there’s a fire breaking out. The mutants around him continue to scatter and shriek, and the sound of branches snapping and the eruption of fresh flames upon grass is all around him.

“I’m free!” Ray gasps, almost dumbstruck. The fire multiplies and spreads throughout the forest.

“I’m free!” Several trees capsize under the weight of mutants scrambling to escape the inferno.

“I’m free!” Ray repeats once more as the fires lick at the ground and swallow everything green and good. With all the chaos around him (and being surrounded by mutants who could at any moment realize food is right there unguarded and unaware of his surroundings) Ray ought to leave the area, so he hobbles as fast as he can away from the cave and into the flames. His body is killing him; every step sends a jolt of pain through his body and the cut on his chest stings with every breath he makes, but the distance he gathers from the mutants is enough to keep him going. _What is going on_? Ray is confused by all the sudden chaos and fire. _Must be a Pokémon battle._ But Ray has seen all there is that the forest offers, and he mentally slaps himself for thinking a fictional Japanese monster battle is happening in real life. _Could this be Ryan’s doing_? Worrying about Ryan’s safety, Ray kicks it into high gear and hobbles even faster. He passes the fuselage and the passenger effigies, and he makes it to the shore of the beach, where the fire is the thickest. Orange and yellow flames dance as the wind picks up and they grow higher and higher, until they engulf trees. Their glow reflects off the water and it transfixes Ray. He sees the outlines of multiple figures charging through the flaming forest in panic and fury, all heading south towards where the encampment is. Thinking once more about Ryan, Ray hurries along, assuming the worst.

The drawbridge is down, which is strange because Ryan designed it to automatically lift up after several seconds, but upon further inspection Ray sees that it has been deliberately smashed; the driftwood bridge nearly submerged in water. Ray hurries across it and almost falls through the aging wood, but he makes it to the camp. The bonfires are unlit (a bad sign) and Ryan’s not around (even worse sign). Ray fumbles around the camp for bows and arrows and his fire axe, but only the bow and arrows are there. Ryan is armed, and he can handle himself, but when there are dozens of mutants out there, angry and in need of a place with no fire, can Ryan defend himself all on his own? Ray looks around wildly, but never takes in his surroundings; his only concern is Ryan’s whereabouts.

He gets his answer after a few moments when he sees a flicker of torchlight coming from the side where the effigies are. The torchlight catches several trees and they are slowly devoured by flames, illuminating the darkness. Ray gets a good look and almost sobs with relief when he sees that it's Ryan, but something seems off. Ryan is a bulldozer of fury, burning trees at will and scorching the ground. His lizard armor is covered in blood (Ray hopes it’s mutant blood and not his own) and his hair is sticking up in odds and ends, with twigs and leaves nestled in the locks. But what unnerves Ray so much is the rawest look of _anger_ in Ryan’s eyes. Everything about Ryan exudes malice; his blue eyes are bloodshot and unfocused, he seems disinterested in the chaos all around him. Ray can see the clear expressions of anger, sorrow -and what he’s surprised to see- resignation.

Ray calls to him. “Ryan!” Ryan looks and sees Ray waving a bow in his hand, hobbling towards him. Ray barely has enough time to register Ryan barreling towards him and nearly knocking him over. Ryan envelops Ray in a hug and his large body and warmth has Ray realize that he’s shaking.

“Oh Jesus fucking _Christ_ ,” Ryan rasps, his Southern accent all over the place. “You’re _alive_. I thought, I thought…”

“What’s going on? Why is everything on fire?”

“I thought they took you-“

“They did-“

“I thought- you were gone so _long_ , I thought they _ate_ you-“

“How long have I been gone?”

Ryan looks into Ray’s eyes and it looked as if Ryan’s about to break down.

“You’ve been gone for _three days_ , Ray,” Ryan whispers, taking in the look of surprise from the younger man. “You left me, saying you were going to look for more supplies, and I _waited_ , I waited so long. Night came and I grew worried, but I told myself to wait until morning; you were probably having the grandest time with that vibrator or something-“

“Let’s not mention that vibrator,” Ray interrupts. “That’s what got me in trouble in the first place.”

“Morning came and you weren’t here, so I looked for you _everywhere_. I found your spear the next day, and I just-“ Ryan breaks off and looks at the inferno all over the forest. “I got so _mad_ , I could only imagine what they did to you, that I thought I would never see you again, and if I did, it wouldn’t be _alive_.” Ryan takes a deep breath. “You _promised_ me that we were getting off this island together, and when I thought the worst, I-I-I got so angry I just started to burn things. I wanted to _kill them all_ , I’m _going to kill them all_.”

Ray is shocked, if not touched, by Ryan’s admission of psychopathy. Ryan was willing to risk his life in destroying every single mutant in a literal blaze of glory because he thought Ray was dead. Like, when will your faves ever?

“Dude,” Ray says, “we’re getting off this fuckin island, not even a sprained ankle is going to stop me.” He lifts his foot up to show Ryan his injury. Instantly Ryan squats down to inspect it, gingerly rolling Ray’s ankle to test it. Ray winces, but doesn’t shirk away from Ryan’s touch.

“It’s not broken,” Ryan confirms, “but it is sprained. What happened? Did you try to do Kimahri’s Ronso Rage Jump again?”

“Hanging from a rope by my ankles.”

“Ah.” Out of nowhere, Ryan rips out a strip of cloth and a stick and ties it around Ray’s ankle as a makeshift splint. Resting his weight on the splint, the pain lessens. “There, that should do it.”

“Thanks, it does.” There’s a pause between them, and the stupidest grin breaks out on Ray’s face despite himself.

“I really want to kiss you right now,” He admits after a while.

Ryan smiles back. “As do I to you,” he says, “but when we’re off the island.” He gestures to the water, and resting on the beach is the finished raft. It looks sturdier than Ray last saw it and the sail is tied fast to the mast.

“I packed it with provisions and had it done a couple of days ago,” Ryan explains. “I wanted to surprise you with it when you came back…”

Ray’s grin grows wider as he goes to inspect it. “What are we waiting for?” He exclaims. “Let’s set sail on the S.S. Anne!”

“Let’s not name it that.” Ryan laughs, but he clasps Ray’s shoulder and puts the bloody fire axe onto the raft. “But leaving this island in a fiery bon voyage is rather fitting, no?” Ray smiles toothily and he looks across the tributary, smile vanishing quickly.

Across the water are the figures of, what possibly could be all the mutants on the island, staring _right_ at them. Hundreds of bodies stand to attack, their outlines enhanced by the burning forest.

“Oh _fuck_ ,” Ray gasps, and Ryan looks up and his eyes are ablaze with hatred.

“That’s alright,” Ryan says tersely,” they’re across the water, they can’t swim, they can’t get to us-“ His statement is left unfinished when a unified roar of hunger and anger emits from the mutants, and despite their lack of buoyancy, they are fucking charging into the water and treading after them.

“OH JESUS CHRIST THEY REALIZED THEY CAN ENDURE WETNESS!” Ray shrieks and gets his bow ready. A good portion of the mutants fail to learn how to swim and drown in the process, but these mutants must adapt quick because the rest are learning how to doggy-paddle, and the sight is both cute and terrifying.

“Are you the King of Quick Scope?” Ryan shouts over the scurry of mutants discovering the submerged drawbridge and running across it. He shoots an arrow and it hits a mutant with deadly precision.

“Competition to see who kills the most mutants?” Ray offers.

“Winner gets his dick sucked on the raft.”

“Game on.” Ray hurries as best as he can to get the oil-soaked arrows from the supplies, and he hobbles towards the outcrop and begins to strike the flint arrowheads across the stone, sparking the cloth and igniting the arrow.

“ _JUST BLAZE_!” Ray screams as he looses the arrow and the fiery stick lodges itself in the cranium of a mutant making across the drawbridge. “Headshot! That’s ten points right there!” It dies in a scream of agony and it galvanizes the other mutants to charge after him, but Ray shoots flaming arrows into them and into the ground, causing them to back away. Ryan is expertly shooting down mutants doggy-paddling across the tributary, and switching from his bow to his spear for melee attacks like he’s Lara Croft. When a mutant successfully gets on land and is close by, Ryan whirls his spear around and incapacitates the mutant, then quickly switches from the spear to fire axe and hacks the mutant to pieces before the mutant puts up any sort of fight. He’s covered in even more blood, but it doesn’t slow him down as he switches back to bow and snipes more mutants out of the water. Ray focuses on keeping the mutants at bay. The drawbridge finally gives under the weight of the mutants and it snaps underneath them, causing at least ten to be sucked under the water, never to resurface.

“I’m counting those as kills for me!” Ray hollers. He continues to shoot more fire arrows and the mutants get the hint and back off, trying to escape back to the other side of the tributary. Letting out a war cry, Ray shoots two fire arrows at once (if Legolas can do it then so can he) and they hit the back of one mutant scout, comically bursting into flames. “AGHHH JUH BL!” Ray’s battle cries are a garbled mess but they get the point across.

“Around us!” Ryan barks, and when Ray glances to the other side of the encampment he sees another horde of mutants coming from the side of the waterfall. They barely register the traps that have been set for them months in advance, and they trigger them, some falling into holes, some being dangled from ropes, and others dying instantly from spikes and log traps. Ray focuses his fire on the ones that bypass the traps and go for Ryan and the raft. Ryan seems to be out of arrows, but he has the fire axe in one hand and a small device in the other, what it is, Ray can’t tell. The blade of the axe clips a mutant’s head and it explodes in a bloody rain of gore. The surprise flank from the mutants doesn’t seem to do much to dissuade the two; Ray’s extensive playing of war games has him oddly prepared for the onslaught, and Ryan just seems to know when to change weapon and his endurance is great. Most of the mutants lie dead in a bloody and fiery heap, and they look to be retreating from the camp…

That is, until three giant freak-ass spider things trample the bushes, flanked by meta mutant scouts, shriek in unison and lift their legs in the air, showing off their asses, and charge after the two. For a second, Ryan is terrified, and Ray realizes that yes, those are the things Ryan was talking about that made him horrified (he can’t blame him) but then Ryan lifts the device in his hand and it’s the flare gun from the cockpit (what’s that going to do? Scare off the spider mutant with a bright light?).

Ryan shoots the flare and the bolt of fire hits the spider mutant, and it instantly erupts into flames. Its shrieks increase in volume as it topples into another spider mutant, burning another and several mutant scouts. Ryan shoots again and sets the remaining spider mutant alight, and orders Ray to focus his firepower on the spider mutants as he shoots the final flare at the mutants and one spider mutant dies from the fire. _Okay that was easier than I thought_. Ray thinks. He’s got a dick-boner for Ryan fighting like an invulnerable NPC player.

The spider mutants are incapacitated for now, but the mutant scouts are still coming after them. Ryan drops the flare gun and pushes the raft into the water.

“Ray!” He calls. “It’s time!” There’s something else in his hand, another device, but Ray can’t tell what it is even if Ryan showed it to him. “We need to get out of here!” The fires are only growing larger and the mutants are only getting angrier. Ray thought he would never get to hear that. Hours ago he was convinced he was going to die, and now, _they’re leaving_. He hobbles to the raft and Ryan pulls him in the boat, holding him close as the raft catches the current and slowly, but surely, the raft is carried away into the water. The mutant scouts attempt to chase after them, but they all fail to see the giant hole Ryan dug and they fall in, and then Ray remembers.

“EDGAARRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR!!!!!” Ray screams across the roar of the fire, almost contemplating jumping out the raft and doggy-paddling back to get to her.

“Ray just leave her!” Ryan roars.

“BUT WE CAN’T JUST LEAVE HER LIKE THAT!”

“I TOLD YOU BEFORE SHE’S THE LAST DEFENSE!”

“But she!” Ray looks at Ryan, horrified. “You can’t tell me you’re going to let her suffer being ripped apart!” Anger tears through him. “ _Cow fucker!_ ”

Ryan’s eyes turn into pits of darkness, and for a moment Ray thinks Ryan is going to push him out of the raft and have him drown. They clear past the tributary and the outer islands before breaking into open, uncharted waters when Ryan, still with the device in hand, presses something, and for a few seconds nothing until-

The biggest _boom_ erupts from behind, and when Ray looks, he’s astounded at the sight of explosions and giant plumes of smoke and fire. Another giant explosion, followed very closely by two more, shake the island and shatter it into a cavalcade of fire and ruin. The sound of metal keening and something huge exploding into shrapnel of death is heard, and Ray can see the tailfin of the plane hurtling in the air in a fiery trail of smoke.

The longest pregnant pause elapses. “The _fuck_?” Ray tries to comprehend after a while.

“Did you know that if you combine circuit boards, watches, and gasoline you can create bombs?” Ryan has this sick smile that is amplified by the blood on his face. “And if you make a small remote device, you can create an IED?”

“Motherfucking Dead Rising right here,” Ray remarks, and looks back at the fiery ruin of the island. Edgar’s most likely dead, and hopefully she didn’t suffer.

“So how’d you like that explosion?” Ryan asks as he scoops up water from the lake and wipes off the blood from his face.

“I give that four out of five Yams,” Ray deadpans, and chuckles when Ryan pulls him in close and kisses him stupid as the wind catches the sail and they are carried off into the infinite void of the lake.

They’re off. They’re finally off.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it isn't a fic about Ray until some form of Just Blaze is in it.
> 
> I already have the ending of this fic done but this part was so....  
> battle scenes (like sex scenes) aren't my forte. but yolo amirite  
> literally 7 days until I'm in Korea hopefully I'll get this shit done by then? probably not but


	8. Remember Not to Throw Tennis Balls at People

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ray and Ryan start over

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry I waited forever and two days to update, but I've been trying to get over my Asia expedition (South Korea is the land of dreams I have never felt so at home and every time I think about that magnificent place I start to cry I love it so much; China was equally enchanting) and February is the month of grief, work, and birthdays. I felt it wasn't right to post while we still mourning over Monty. but I'm back, and the wild rumpus is coming to a close. thank you all for reading I'm glad I was able to entertain y'all (and this was my first RT fic I've ever written) who knows? maybe I'll write another.
> 
> Guy Fieri fucking blows and I want everyone to know that. no reason, just cause.
> 
> holy mother of fuck this chapter is long I'm sorry but then I'm not sorry.

“So let me get this straight,” Ray begins. The island is maybe a mile behind them, the giant plume of smoke billowing thickly in the night air and the roar of the inferno crackles and spits. “You go and say that building a raft is impossible and fruitless, and it takes you weeks to make one, but you make multiple IEDs with timed devices with no problem and blow the island to smithereens. Explain this logic.”

With the smoke wafting in the sky, its thickness blocks out the moonlight and Ray can barely see Ryan. “Well, if I took carpentry and woodworking in school maybe my answer would be different.” From his tone it sounds as if he is being overly patient. “Lack of resources prior to the plane crash kept me idle for years. But for a person who attempted to build a raft on his first try? Not too shabby, eh?” And he’s right. Crude as the raft may be, it remains buoyant and cuts through the water with ease. The sail catches the gentle night breeze and propels the raft forward across the great unknown of the lake.

“I’d like to apologize for calling you a cow fucker back there,” Ray rubs the back of his neck. “It was out of anger and I just… it just _sucks_ that Edgar had to go out like that.”

Ryan nods but Ray can’t see it. “I knew for about a year that she was there as the last distraction, and I told myself that every day, but yeah, it does suck still.”

“What a positive influence to the encampment.”

“She always had something insightful to say.”

“All she did was _moo_.”

“When you’re stuck on an island with the only cow nearby and surrounded by literally bloodthirsty and man-hungry mutants, the occasional moo is enough to bring one back to sanity.”

“I see,” Ray leans back on the raft and lets the night air caress his hair. “I’m gonna miss you Edgar. I’m gonna pour one out for you, girly. I’m gonna pour a Capri Sun out for you, because I don’t drink.”

“Buy a phial of whiskey and pour it out,” Ryan suggests.

“That’s too expensive I’m broke as fuck, man.”

“Touché.” Ryan leans back and inhales deep, and exhales.

“Hey Ryan.” Ray says after a while.

“Yeah?”

“ _You’re free_.” Ray assumes Ryan turns to look at him, and he wonders what he’s thinking right now.

“To think the free air could taste so _sweet_ ,” Ryan sighs, and Ray can practically see the smile in the darkness. It’s beautiful.

 

 

The current lulls into a standstill, but the breeze pulls the sail along and the raft is slowly dragged across the water. Ray is unsure what direction they’re headed, but it’s opposite to the island, so he’s not too worried. Ryan has situated himself by lying down between Ray’s legs and resting his head on his lap. Ray gently combs his fingers through Ryan’s tangled locks, smiling at the content hum that vibrates through Ryan’s body.

“You think we’re in Lake Michigan?” Ray asks.

“I think we’re in Lake Titicaca,” Ryan deadpans, then considers his answer. “I _hope_ we’re in Lake Michigan,” he adds. “That’s where I disappeared. It happened so fast and it was near instantaneous that I’d be surprised if I wasn’t.”

“Plot twist: we’re in Lake Superior,” Ray grins at Ryan’s curt snort.

“That’d mean we’d be relying on the help of the Canadians and the Upper Peninsula Michiganders.”

“That’s awful. We’d be doomed.”

Ryan chuckles and pulls himself up; Ray jerks his hand away from Ryan’s hair. “When we’re rescued,” he begins, “ _if_ we’re rescued, what _are_ you going to do? What plan do you have to assimilate yourself back into “normal” life?” Ryan gingerly turns his body to face Ray and the raft jostles slightly. “I’ve been thinking for weeks what I would be doing if I ever had to go back and get a job again; do _human_ things, I guess. My brain can’t wrap around me wearing anything more than some jeans, and in this case- nothing.”

Ray considers his answer. “Join a nudist colony?” He offers. Ryan snorts again. “You could do anything honestly, you have a college degree, so you’re in better shape than I am.”

“But _mentally_ , you are more apt to bounce back and return to normalcy than I. I don’t think I am, in fact-“ Ryan cuts off and doesn’t speak, but Ray can tell what he’s thinking. He’s scared.

“Are you afraid of not being able to communicate with people?” Ray offers.

“That’s one of the fears,” Ryan answers.

“I mean, I’m the most awkward guy on the planet-“

“No kidding,” Ryan cuts in.

“-and you clicked well with me…”

“Nearly two months of us being together and look what happened.”

“I mean you’re not gonna bone every person you see, right?” Ryan stays silent.

“That’d be weird.”

“I just imagined myself having casual sex with every able body in a town and my mind just warped.” Ryan’s voice shivers as he talks. “I couldn’t fathom the idea of doing that.”

“Are you going to look for your wife?” Ray asks and he can feel the mood shift. It feels like it takes a while for Ryan to answer, but when he does, his voice sounds uncertain.

“Should she still be there-there being home- I will go back to her. I will tell her about the island, how I met you, how you helped me get off the island to get back to my family. I will catch up with my son. I will try to be the best husband and father I can be, but I know I can never return back to what I used to be. Eventually my wife will notice that something seems… _off_ about me. It might unsettle her, and she’ll realize the person she grew to love over the years and settled down with changed and those changes could manifest into something worse. She would most likely leave me, take our son, move away, and I’d be alone again. That’s one of the instances. I’d bury myself into my work and would shut off anyone and everyone that tries to communicate with me; except you.” Ryan adds, a lilt of hopefulness colors his voice. Ray smiles slightly. “I hope that, should she still be there, she’d welcome you with open arms, and take you in as one of the family, because maybe if you’re there, I could be _normal_ , or at least close to it. If you’re there, I’ll be okay.”

“Really?” Ray’s touched, his smile increases. “If that would be okay with your wife, because to be honest I don’t think I can return to normalcy without you always nearby.”

“Can’t separate the, what’s that term you called us? The R&R Connection?”

“Yeah. Team Best Buds.” Ray holds out his fist but then remembers it’s dark and Ryan can’t see it, but Ryan leans forward and his fist connects with Ray’s, and the younger man feels a surge of happiness with the contact.

“But if she’s not there, I would assume she’s moved on and gone on without me. I will not look for her, though I will miss her and my son terribly. I’ll continue to wonder how he’s growing up, how he’s adjusting to life. I’ll struggle to continue on in a normal life; meeting people and interacting with strangers will terrify me. I might find myself in a random cow field, trying to dig holes for cows to fall in or something.”

“You’re fucking weird sometimes you know that?” Ray cuts in.

“That last part was a joke.”

“That’s something a hole-digger for cows would say.”

Ryan snorts and lightly punches Ray’s leg. “But you can’t be away from me, eh?” Ray just nods.

“If we’re rescued-“

“ _When_ we’re rescued.”

“When, if… if we are, don’t part from me, okay?” There’s a genuine sound of desperation that twinges in Ryan’s voice; it softens his tone and he sounds so vulnerable. Ray leans forward in the darkness and takes Ryan’s hand and squeezes it.

“I wouldn’t dream of it.” He whispers back.

 

 

The morning is just breaking and the grey light filters through the clouds, illuminating the fog settling thickly over the water. Ryan is awake staring at the black water as it stills and the raft is a listless buoy in the lake. Ray awakes to his legs floating in the water and he panics, jolting upward and nearly capsizing the raft with his movements. Ryan grabs a hold of Ray and steadies the raft as it shakes and the water is disturbed.

“Watch it!” Ryan warns.

“You could have just pulled me up before I slid into the water and drowned!” Ray yelps and his voice sounds too loud amidst the fog.

Ryan sighs as the raft stills. “You kept sliding off in the night and I kept pulling you back up. You’re kind of a wild sleeper.” He explains.

“It’s like sleeping in a water bed, aka I don’t know what that’s like.” Ray sits up and blinks as the fog swirls in thick clouds above the water. The air feels so stuffy, what with the lingering smell of burning earth and wood trailing behind them, and the mist cloying their nostrils. The sail hangs uselessly on the mast, leaning slightly from the weight. There’s no breeze to catch and the raft floats on the lake.

With the lack of movement Ray feels uneasy. It’s a stupid thought, but he fears that whatever distance he and Ryan gained from the island will be lost. Even with the island blown to smithereens, the supernatural forces surrounding it must have remained and Ray won’t feel safe until they’re on land and in capable hands.

“Why have we stopped?” Ray asks for no reason even though he knows the answer.

“The wind died down an hour ago,” Ray gets a good look at Ryan’s face and recognizes that drawn, exhausted look. “We’ve covered maybe, five kilometers?”

“This is America jackass, use the Imperial measuring system.” Ryan casts a tired glance over towards Ray and flicks his gaze back towards the water.

The silence between them hangs in the air until the fog disappears and the sun’s rays warm them both and a flicker of safety emanates through Ray. The sky is blue and the sun yellow, and the lake a deep shade of green. The thick plume of smoke trails to the west and away from them.

“By now authorities and local news must have caught wind of that explosion,” Ryan begins, “so within a day, we should see the Coast Guard or police boats or something.”

“I sure hope you’re right.” Ray replies, curling up by the mast. The wind is soft, and it merely prods at the sail, but the waves get choppy and it gently pushes the raft inches further.

“How deep is Lake Michigan?” Ray asks. “Like a hundred feet?”

“Last book I read about the lakes is that Lake Erie, the Great Lakes’ shallowest lake, is at least two hundred and ten feet deep. Lake Michigan is four times that.”

“So if I fall in, I’m fucked?”

“Royally,” Ryan blinks at the sunlight. “But I won’t let you fall in.”

“Thanks.” Ray warily looks at the choppy dark water churning the raft to and fro. He grasps the mast tighter.

“How wide is Lake Michigan?”

“Pretty fucking wide, Ray.” Ryan doesn’t look at him.

“Are you _sure_ help is on its way?”

“I just hope so.” The sunlight’s warmth increases and Ray feels like he’s broiling. He closes his eyes and lies next to the mast, still clutching onto the mast.

 

 

Ray is unsure how long he was asleep for (could be for several hours, could be for several days) but when he awakes the sun is setting and the plume of smoke is ebbing away and Ryan is staring at the orange light glittering across the dark blue.

“We’re still on the fucking raft,” Ray rasps out, unsure if his anger is evident in his voice. He needs water so bad, and water is around them, but Ray is afraid if he dunks his head overboard he’ll topple over and sink down the depths of Lake Michigan. Two hundred ten times four is what?

“Here,” Ryan hands Ray a thoroughly used water bottle from their provisions. The bottle is warm but Ray chugs down the water within the minute. “Yeah, still on the raft. No sign of a helicopter or a boat; I have been on the lookout ever since.”

“How long have I been out?”

“About six hours.” _Feels like it’s been longer_. Ray sighs, puts down the water bottle and scoots over to Ryan’s side. Gingerly he leans onto Ryan’s broad shoulder, unsure if the older man would like any contact. Ryan doesn’t move, just stares off into the distance.

“Don’t worry,” Ray says softly. “They’ll come. We just have to be patient.” His fingers brush lightly at Ryan’s thigh as some sort of comfort.

“I know,” Ryan’s voice is tired. “I’ll keep on the lookout for help.”

“No, you get some rest. You can look the next morning.” Ray lets Ryan lie back and Ryan obeys, but he looks up at the sky and doesn’t close his eyes. Ray figures he might as well wait until Ryan gets drowsy, but after an hour Ryan is still awake and Ray is getting tired again. The gentle lull of the waves and rocking of the raft has put Ray into an uneasy rest. He eventually falls back to sleep as the sunlight disappears and dusk descends upon them.

 

 

Ryan keeps track of all the days that passed since they escaped the island. Ray hopes Ryan is just delirious from lack of proper nutrition (stale salty pretzels and warm water were not enough) but Ryan is calm, if not subdued, as he says four days have passed. How he knows it has been four days is beyond Ray, but the smoke has long since cleared and the wind has maybe moved them two miles. Aside from a flock of gulls that grace the sky, there is absolutely nothing. Maybe Ray is just delirious.

“Ryan,” Ray gasps, as he takes an empty water bottle and skims it across the water. It is murky and dirt settles on the bottom. _There’s probably fish shit in here_ , Ray grimaces, but his thirst is greater than his disgust, so he drinks it anyway. “Do you have your spear?”

Ryan doesn’t look at Ray. “It’s right beside you, Ray,” he answers tiredly. “What of it?”

“Take your spear and catch some fish.”

“How will I cook the fish, Ray?” Ryan sounds so done with Ray, but he remains stationary and doesn’t snap.

“Use your cool ass knife skills to make some sashimi.”

“You wouldn’t want pike sashimi.” Some hint of mirth warms Ryan’s voice; he still doesn’t turn around.

The days are an arduous stretch and Ray thinks that life on the raft is harder than life on the island, but he doesn’t up and tell Ryan that this idea was a mistake. Maybe they’re trapped in the supernatural vortex that Ryan was warped in, and it’s only a matter of time until they’re back to where they started. There are days where Ray delves into his imagination and time elapses quickly; hopefully when he’s out of his trance help will have arrived. It doesn’t.

It’s not until day six and they are literally on their last granola bar and bag of pretzels when Ray joins Ryan in staring out into the distance. The silence makes the days stretch even longer. There’s nothing, and yet everything Ray wants to tell Ryan. He opens his mouth to start a conversation, but when he looks at Ryan’s sunburnt face and his wistful look towards the horizon, words die on his tongue.

They couldn’t even fuck; the raft so small and the water that could go from calm to a maelstrom in a moment’s notice, they could barely give each other handjobs without the threat of the raft capsizing. Yet when it’s night and Ray lies back with Ryan and they press against each other to keep warm, Ray leaves light kisses all over Ryan’s face, as if to alleviate the sunburns, and Ryan just exhales in relief as he sleeps for a couple of hours. Ray continues pressing his lips onto Ryan’s closed eyelids, and burrows his face into the older man’s broad shoulder. It’s the eighth day when the sky is full of angry dark clouds and the water is churning the raft to and fro, and Ray clutches the sides of the raft yet Ryan is still on the side staring off into the distance, when Ray thinks they’ll never be rescued.

“We’re never going to be rescued, aren’t we?” It takes Ray four days to speak to Ryan, and he’s so drained (no food, the water is so bad that even Ryan stops drinking it) and morality is so low it takes every ounce of willpower for Ray not to slide off the raft and let his scrawny ass sink into the dark abyss of the lake. His voice is soft and he’s unsure if Ryan heard him, but the weight that was on his chest suddenly lifted and it felt better saying it.

“We’re stuck, Ray.” Ryan sighs. Ray looks at him, forlorn, and Ryan stares back at him. Suddenly Ryan leans over and envelops Ray in an embrace. Ray melts into his arms and inhales the scent of Ryan’s skin as he wishes he could sleep forever.

 

 

It’s the morning of the ninth day, and the sun has risen. Ryan doesn’t go back to staring off into the horizon; the days of staying up on two hours of sleep has finally taken its toll. Ray is burrowed into his chest, too hungry to move around and go skim some more dirty lake water to drink. It should terrify him that he’s delirious and almost mad with hunger, but he’s accepted his fate by day seven. Random splashes, phantom sights of mutants clawing their way out of the water onto their meager raft, and the empty sky has Ray ready to die. He wraps his arms around Ryan tightly, and feels Ryan lightly squeeze him in return. His throat is too dry to speak, and he can’t bring himself to look at Ryan. Maybe in a couple of days, he might die in Ryan’s arms, and Ray’s okay with that. Spending your last moments with someone you love, that’s a good thing, right? Ray blinks, his eyelashes scratching against Ryan’s skin, as he realizes he loves Ryan. Maybe he ought to say it. Those three words would probably make them both feel better, and they both know that Ray is too weak and pathetic to survive one more night without nutrition. There’s a lump in Ray’s throat that burns worse than the burn of no water slaking his thirst, and he just can’t say the words. His eyes burn with unshed tears as he squeezes Ryan’s middle in return and rubs his chapped lips above Ryan’s right nipple, mouthing the words. Maybe Ryan can understand what Ray’s trying to say. Ray chances to look up at the older man and notices that he’s still asleep. _Love you, all the homo_. Ray thinks as he resumes burying his face back into Ryan’s chest and waits for death to come to him.

He dreams of the raft hitting the shore of some pebbly beach in Indiana, and Ryan, despite being weak and malnourished, carries Ray off the raft and onto land. He imagines that he will force himself awake and ask where they are, and Ryan will accurately guess they are in another state (Indiana) and Ray will make some gripe about how they should push the fucking raft back into the water and go to another state, but Ryan kisses him before the younger can make a joke. They would have landed on a beach, with a rest area and a tiny lighthouse and most importantly _people_ , people that won’t try to eat them and will giggle if you throw a tennis ball at their feet. There would be someone calling for 911, and in moments there would be an EMT with stretchers and blankets and miraculously Mountain Dew Code Red that they pour down Ray’s parched throat. They try to take Ray from Ryan’s arms but Ryan won’t let them, saying “I go where he goes, goddamn it” and Ryan is firm and unmovable despite this being the first time meeting other life in months. He imagines there’s a bunch of EMTs assuring them that they’ll be safe now, and they wrap them both into blankets and even though it’s eighty degrees out, the comfort of the cheap synthetic wool is needed, and Ray relishes in the feeling of them being escorted into an ambulance and off to civilization. He’s so caught up in his imagination that he almost doesn’t register the sound of blades whirling in the air, as the wind picks up around them so much that the mast bends over and the raft is in danger of capsizing. He opens his eyes and looks up from the safety of Ryan’s chest to see giant black chopper blades whirring dangerously in the air. There’s a heavy shadow cast over them as Ray realizes _there’s a person_ lowering themselves from _-_ is that a _helicopter_? Is that the word? It’s been so long- on a long rope, arms extended and ready to scoop Ray up from Ryan.

 _No, don’t take me from him_. Ray is too weak to fight as the person nears them, and pries Ryan off of Ray. This wakes Ryan up and the sunburnt man opens his bloodshot eyes and stares at the coast guard touching him. Maybe he doesn’t know how to react to people near him who aren’t Ray. He doesn’t get a chance to fight the coast guard off because as he moves the man deftly straps a harness around Ryan’s waist and hooks him up to the rope, and in seconds Ryan is lifted up in the air and Ray is left all alone. Every nerve inside him shrieks in anger as he weakly tries to reach toward the ascending people, but it is no use as within moments Ryan is inside the helicopter and out of Ray’s view. The coast guard guy is back on the descent, this time for Ray. Ray doesn’t fight back as he is strapped in a harness and on the rope and the guy holds onto Ray as they are lifted into the air. He hears the faint yelling of “you’re safe, we’ll take care of you guys” over the roar of the chopper blades, and Ray looks at the patch on the coast guard’s uniform. United States Coast Guard: Sector Lake Michigan. On the other side of the uniform front is the small flag with Indiana under it. Ray frowns. When he is in the safe confines of the helicopter, Ray immediately looks to Ryan being covered in a blanket and having his vitals checked.

“Are you guys okay?” The coast guard yells to them over the helicopter. What a stupid question. Neither Ray nor Ryan answer.

“We are the United States Coast Guard of the Michigan City sector in Indiana,” the man continues. “We’re going to give you guys the help you need. How does that sound?”

Ray can’t help it; he’s got to make the jape. “Awful,” he rasps out, and laughs hoarsely at the coast guard’s face of disbelief at the answer.

 

 

They are whisked away to the nearest trauma hospital in Michigan City, which Ray doesn’t understand because they’re not injured (save for the cuts on his chest and his ankle) but Ryan is put in ICU and Ray is off in the farthest wing he can be from Ryan. Delirious and afraid, Ray frantically begs nurses and doctors to keep him by Ryan’s side, but they tell him everything is going to be fine and that his friend will be taken care of. They expertly bind his ankle and treat his mutant scratches. They put needles and tubes in his arms and he feels useless lying there. There is no Mountain Dew Code Red, and every time he asks a nurse for one, they don’t give him one, just water. Indiana _sucks_ , but Ray drinks the water anyway. They put on the TV to distract him, but there’s only the Food Network channel and every time Guy Fieri comes on the screen Ray wants to burst from the bed and launch his ass out the window. The doctors tell him he’s lucky to be alive and relatively unharmed, despite being so malnourished they wondered how he lasted nine days out in the water. Ray ignores this and asks for Ryan.

“He’s awake and compliant,” the doctor smiles. “He keeps asking for you.”

“When can I see him?” That question is left unanswered.

In the next couple of days a couple of men in government issued jackets and badges come to visit Ray. Ray is doing his daily exercise of walking on his bound ankle (against doctor’s wishes) and is told to come back to his room. The marshals are there, and they introduce themselves as Agent Heyman and Agent Burns. Both are wearing obnoxious shiny aviators and Burns has a toothpick in his mouth that he chews on incessantly.

“Mr. Narvaez,” Burns begins.

“Jr.” Ray adds.

“Jr.?”

“Narvaez Jr. Jr.,” Heyman jokes, and both marshals chuckle at this. Ray shakes his head.

“You must know why we’re here.”

“Is it the plane crash that no one bothered to look for several months, is it the giant explosion that obliterated an entire island, or is it the surviving the onslaught of cannibal mutants?” Silence.

“Kind of all of the above,” Heyman murmurs.

“The plane crashed on the island and I was the sole survivor, why was there no search-and-retrieve for the plane?”

“That island is, shall we say, very difficult to get to.” Burns answers curtly.

“How difficult because Ryan ended up there four years ago and I ended up there with no problem.” Ray crosses his arms.

 “Did you tell anyone about this?”

“No,” Ray says. “I haven’t told anyone. They have asked and I have told them we were on a raft. That’s it.”

“You sure?” Burns asks.

“Yeah I’m sure.”

“That island was a top-secret biochemical test set back in the 1960s,” Heyman explains. “A small settlement in Kentucky undergone certain experiments, and it went south. Mass hysteria, contagious infections that warped people beyond repair. If any of that were to spread, the fate of the population would have been in peril. Instead of vaporizing the settlement, the government relocated the settlement to a remote island to hopefully keep it away from the rest of the citizens. So far, it has been successful. You and Haywood are the first to learn of this island. We are very surprised that Haywood has lived this long; the mutants were hostile.”

“Wow, you think?” Ray gripes. “I learned some sweet spear moves; killed some mutants too.”

“The reason why there were no attempts for search-and-rescue was that the island is- _was­-_ off limits to even the United States military; only those with the highest security clearance have knowledge of it. Federal marshals are only advised to keep local authorities and the public away from the island. How Haywood got on that island is beyond us, there’s supposed to be a manmade barrier around the island perimeter.”

“There wasn’t a barrier at all. Ryan says he doesn’t remember how he got there. He was on that island for so long he was unsure if he was in the same _country_.”

“Officials in high places have been spinning the news about the passengers on that flight,” Burns continues, as if Ray never opened his mouth. “Even under circumstances of massive amounts of people under peril on that island, they are doomed to their fate. We can’t risk a mass infection if we go and save a few people.”

“But,” Ray cuts in. “As you can see, Ryan and I aren’t infected.”

“That depends,” Heyman scrutinizes Ray behind his glasses. “You guys didn’t eat anything… humanlike, right?”

 _Ryan ate my ass twelve out of ten would do it again_ , Ray wants to say, but all he does is frown and shake his head.

“We’re going to talk to Haywood. We are going to look after you two when you two are discharged, until you are back to your respective homes.” Burns makes a move to the door.

“So you’re not going to…”

“Going to what?” Burns stops.

“You guys aren’t going to take me out? Double-tap me to silence me forever? Since I know this huge government secret?”

Heyman and Burns look at each other and look back at Ray. “We wouldn’t do that,” Heyman says curtly (which sounds like he’s fucking lying). “But we would highly advise you and Haywood to never disclose this information to anyone.”

“I won’t.”

“We’ll be back after we talk to Haywood. Rest easy Narvaez.” The marshals leave and Ray is left alone to ponder all the information he was given. He more or less figured out what that island was, but the supernatural appeal was lost on it. He leans back into the hospital bed and waits for the nurses to come with his antibiotics and to check his vitals. He’ll continue his pestering about Ryan later on.

 

 

In a few days Ryan is moved from ICU to the same wing Ray is in. The original plan was to put him in his own room, but Ray threw such a fit and pestered the nurses, the doctors, and even the marshals that if Ryan is not in his room Ray is going to open up a can of worms (figuratively or literally, they weren’t going to find out, and really, anything to get Ray to just shut up) so in the next hour another bed is wheeled in and soon Ryan is escorted inside. It takes every ounce of willpower for Ray not to launch himself into Ryan’s arms, but he smiles and doesn’t complain when the nurse takes Ray’s blood pressure. Ryan is here, whole and rested and his face is peeling but he looks refreshed, albeit subdued and hesitant. According to the nurses, Ryan rarely spoke one word out of ten to anyone, and if he did, he would trip over his words and avoid eye contact with anyone. He’s still hooked to an IV drip and goes through more tests than Ray, but that doesn’t stop Ray from invading Ryan’s personal space and talking about anything and everything, mostly about how much he wants the nurses to change the goddamn channel.

“Missed you, buddy,” Ray squeezes Ryan’s hand and Ryan softly smiles back.

“Good to see a familiar face,” Ryan murmurs, blue eyes twinkling, and Ray beams. He can’t help himself. He rubs a thumb over a rough knuckle, wishing he could kiss Ryan stupid.

“They said they were going to take us home in the next couple of days,” Ryan says, turning off the TV (Ryan has never seen any shows related to Guy Fieri and knows nothing about him, but after one minute listening to that guy talk Ryan would rather have radio silence than seeing that man onscreen).

“Yeah,” Ray turns over to face Ryan in his bed. “I’m going back to New York, you Illinois.”

“Are you really going to go back there?”

“I don’t think I have a choice. The way they told me about sending me back almost sounds like I kinda have to go through with it.”

“I mean, you can just move to Illinois, can’t you? Much easier. We can talk it over with them.”

“I don’t think it’ll work, but it doesn’t hurt to try.” Ray gives a sad smile to Ryan. “You’re going to see your wife again.”

There’s a smile on Ryan’s face but it doesn’t reach his eyes. “It’ll be good to see her again,” he says. “I do miss her, and our son. I miss my family.” Ryan leaves it at that.

When the marshals come into their room and remind them that tomorrow they will be discharged and sent back their respective states, Ray tries to press the relocation issue.

“I mean, do I _have_ to go back to New York?” Ray begins. “I have nothing for me there.”

“Technically you have nothing for you anywhere,” Heyman says. “But New York is your native state, and we try to send everyone back home.”

“No offense, but I rather I’d stay with Ryan.”

“To the point, eh?” This was Burns. “I’m afraid we can’t do that. It’s above our heads, we can’t do anything about it.” The look on Ray’s face must have made Burns guilty.

“Tell you what,” Burns says after a moment. “The original plan was to send you off on the earliest flight to New York, but I don’t think you would want to be on another plane so soon, eh?” Ray nods furiously. “So we won’t do that. We’ll drop off Haywood in Illinois first, let you guys say your goodbyes, and we’ll escort you back to New York via train. It’s the best we can offer.”

The offer still blows, but it’s better than getting on a plane all alone and not being able to see Ryan again. Ray looks at Ryan, who mirrors the same reaction.

“We’ll take it,” Ryan says after a while, and Heyman goes over the information Ryan has given him: his last known address, his wife’s name, her next-of-kin, and surprisingly Ryan remembers all of this despite being out of a contact for so long. Ray can’t bring himself to speak when the marshals leave and Ryan falls back into silence, as he usually does.

 

 

 

Night falls and the faint hum of the monitors is the only sound in the room, aside from Ryan’s even breathing as he sleeps. Ray can’t sleep a wink, for some reason he fears if he falls asleep he’ll miss everything about Ryan. Apparently the city where Ryan lives is a mere hour and a half drive from where they are and an hour and a half is not enough time. Not nearly enough. Ray fidgets and he feels uneasy and scared; a chill courses through him. He’s not ready to start his life over all alone, and sure he and Ryan could keep in contact, but it wouldn’t be the same. _I can always move to Illinois_ , _they can’t stop me from doing that_. Ray thinks as he looks over at Ryan’s sleeping form. Ryan did promise that they will always keep in contact, and Ryan would never go back on a promise.

Still, it’s going to be hard, not seeing him around anymore. Ray’s afraid that if he returns to that same old boring life he’ll forget Ryan.

“Ryan?” Ray softly calls out. Ryan instantly awakes and turns to Ray.

“Can’t sleep?” Ryan murmurs, sleep evident in his voice, but he looks alert and willing to talk.

“I can’t,” Ray scratches the back of his head. Tentatively he climbs out of his bed and approaches Ryan. Without a word, Ryan scooches over (as much as he can, the bed is really narrow) and lifts the blanket so Ray can climb in. Ray smiles sheepishly and blushes. “Thanks.” He gets in and is pressed close to Ryan’s chest, instantly drawn to the warmth. Ryan smells clean and sterile and dry, very different but it’s still undeniably him.

“You look absurd in that hospital gown,” Ryan mumbles into Ray’s hair as Ray curls up into him.

“When you came in walking with that fuckin raggedy bedsheet of a gown I almost shit myself in laughter.”

“With your past ass escapades, I can believe that.” There’s a comfortable silence between them.

“You can’t sleep because tomorrow’s our last day together,” it comes out as a statement rather than a question. Ray nods.

“You’re going back home, isn’t that what you wanted?”

“Yeah, but, I’m gonna miss you, buddy.”

“I am going to miss you as well.”

“You excited to see your wife again?”

Ryan beams and Ray kind of dies a little inside. “I am,” he says. “Hopefully you’ll be able to meet her.”

“Hopefully,” Ray echoes. They look at each other for what feels like a painfully long time, until Ray leans in and Ryan meets him the rest of the way and kisses him. It’s soft, yet there’s a taste of urgency that Ryan notices. He snakes a tongue into Ray’s mouth and does his very best to swallow the moans coming from the other man. When they part after a moment, there’s a thin string of saliva that connects them that is instantly broken. Ray’s arms wrap around Ryan’s middle and crashes his mouth once more into Ryan’s, who immediately reciprocates.

“We need to take this,” Ray struggles to say between kisses, “fuckin _absurd_ hospital gown off.” He claws at it and the buttons snap as part of Ryan’s chest is exposed.

“Ray,” Ryan breathes, but Ray silences him with more kissing. Ryan’s hand reaches over to gently wrap itself around Ray’s neck; the thumb massaging circles on Ray’s pulse.

“Promise me that if you happen to meet another Puerto Rican you don’t kiss the daylights out of him,” Ray murmurs as he slows down to gently kiss Ryan’s eyelids.

“If I meet another Puerto Rican I’ll ask if they just usually call white guys blue eyes white dragon.” Ryan replies. Ray chuckles and reaches down to grab Ryan’s dick-

“Ray,” Ryan repeats, this time firmly, like the tone he used on the island. Ray pauses and looks at him. “We, we shouldn’t.”

Ray understands what _we shouldn’t_ means, but he hopes he’s wrong.

“We are _friends_ , in fact, we are _best friends_ , and I will always treasure that. I want us to continue to be friends. But I have a wife, a family, who I still love very much. You have your family you need to get back to. I think, what happened on the island, should stay on the island, as much as that pains me. There’s a life that I need to return to.”

Ray can feel his face falling and he bets he looks ridiculous and pitiful.

“I like kissing you, and I wish we could kiss more often, along with other things, but it’s time for our lives to go back to what they were. Don’t you agree?”

There was silence, tense and awkward for several moments, when Ray finally agrees. “Yeah you’re right.” He murmurs. “We’re just friends, and I don’t want to ruin that.”

“You’re not ruining it, it’s just something that we should stop doing.”

“Yeah, but,” Ray reaches up and puts his hand against Ryan’s cheek. “Just for the sake of it, our lives start tomorrow.” They stare at each other, then Ryan just sighs and adjusts so Ray can rest his head on Ryan’s chest.

“Sleep here tonight,” Ryan says quietly. “This bed feels much better with you in it.” He rubs Ray’s back in slow circles and lightly kisses his hair.

“You promise to keep in touch with me?” Ray whispers.

“I promise.”

“You promise you’re going to miss me?”

“I will. Will you miss me?”

Tears sting at Ray’s eyes as that burning lump returns to his throat. “I already do.” He replies softly.

 

 

It is late in the afternoon when they are discharged. They are given hand-me-down clothing (because the clothes on the raft were disintegrating) and ushered into a black SUV with tinted windows. Much of the hospital staff stares as the two are escorted out of the building, and their stares make Ray glad that they are leaving this shithole of a state. Agent Burns is driving while Heyman is flipping through radio stations. In the back, Ray and Ryan are silent, staring out at the window but not at each other. There’s heavy traffic forty minutes into the drive as they enter Illinois, and Ray’s a little glad that, even with the reserved atmosphere in the car, it means more time with Ryan. He looks over at Ryan, who seems more interested at cars inching forward and cutting into other lanes. “You nervous?” He whispers over to Ryan, which sounds silly because he bets he sounds inaudible over the sound of scratchy Newsradio 950, but Ryan hears, and he turns to Ray.

“I’m so nervous that I could shit a mountain,” he jokes and lets out a shaky chuckle. What Ryan remembers is that his house is in a town called Naperville, forty miles away from Chicago. He remembers the street and the number and what color brick his house is. Agent Heyman said that they tried getting in contact with Ryan’s wife, but the last known phone number is disconnected.

“Well, we can always surprise her,” Burns tries to lighten the mood.

“Yeah, we can.” Ryan’s jaw hardens “Wonder what she would say.”

“She’ll cry, most like.”

“Unlikely, it takes a lot for her to cry,” Ryan looks at his feet. “What if she’s there… and she no longer _wants_ me?” His tone pitches down into a forlorn note, and he almost sounds like a child

“Then I’ll dropkick her,” Ray deadpans. Ryan looks up at him and frowns. “Alright I won’t, but if she rejects you then I’ll think about it.”

“Have you gotten into contact with your family?”

Ray looks ahead at the marshals trying to weave out of traffic. “They did. They said my mom wanted to talk to me, but I couldn’t.”

“Couldn’t?”

“I suppose I could have just said ‘hey ma, you’ll never guess where I’ve been,’ but I didn’t have the heart to talk to her. There was so much I couldn’t say, and I didn’t know how to tell her what I’ve been through. I could have a year to explain, and it just wouldn’t be enough.”

“You could always start with, ‘I threw a tennis ball at some cannibals and they uppercut me in the thorax’.”

“She would have called me Senor Dumbass for weeks.” Ryan chuckles and looks back out at the window.

“She would love you all the same. She misses you.”

They drive for another thirty minutes when they take an exit off the freeway and cut through small neighborhoods. Ryan looks more apprehensive as evening sets and they drive past fast food joints and grocery stores.

“It all looks unfamiliar,” Ryan murmurs. “So much has changed.” Ray’s never been to Illinois so he can’t offer up a comment. They are stuck at a traffic light for a moment, and then the SUV turns right and they’re in a neighborhood that has Ryan tensing and sitting straighter in his seat.

“I recognize this,” he breathes. “My coworker lives in that house.” He points to one house as they pass it by. They drive for another minute when the SUV slows and parks in front of a one-story brown-brick, with a dark van in the driveway. Ryan stares, wide-eyed and tight-lipped and this must be his house by his reaction.

“This it?” Burns asks softly as he turns off the engine. Ryan nods slowly and swallows thickly.

“This is, this is my home.” The air is still and Ray feels like his heart is about to catapult up into his throat. Ryan makes a move to unbuckle his seatbelt, when the garage door of the house opens and a family walks out towards the van. Ryan stares as a middle-aged man ushers three kids into the van, and following the man is a slim blonde woman shouldering a tote bag. Is that Ryan’s wife? Ray feels bad that, even though Ryan stated multiple times that if his wife moved on he wouldn’t blame her, he still had to see it. Was Ryan going to cry? Was he going to explode in a whirlwind of fury and hurt someone? Ray cranes his neck to look at Ryan’s expression, and is shocked to see that Ryan is expressionless.

“Ryan?” Ray asks. “Is that your wife?” The family climbs into the van and starts to back out of the driveway.

“Is that your wife?” Heyman asks.

It takes a moment for Ryan to answer, and when he does, his voice is flat and controlled.

“It’s not her.” He says quietly.

 

 

 

“So what now?” It was a while until Ray speaks up. There was no need for them to stay at Ryan’s house; they left and headed to God only knows where.

“Sure can’t leave Haywood out on the streets,” Heyman says, and Ray glares into the rearview mirror at the marshal.

“Don’t you fuckers have this thing called the ‘witness protection program’?” Ray barks and both marshals turn to look at him. Ray’s glare holds.

“There is that,” Burns starts after a while as he focuses on his driving.

“And he _did_ come from a top-secret government island…” adds Heyman. “But we can always still look for his wife-“

“No,” Ryan’s voice is quiet but it makes the marshals shut up. “She’s gone, moved on, like I thought she would. There’s no need to look for her. You can honestly do whatever you want, I don’t care.”

“Whoa, whoa,” Ray puts a firm hand on Ryan’s shoulder. “We didn’t blow an entire island to bits and endure nine days on a raft for you to end up on the street,” he says. “You are not returning to normal life as a bum.” He turns to Heyman. “Put him in the witness protection program.”

“Well, technically, he’s not in danger from some big criminal organization and isn’t a key witness to any case,” Burns explains. “He’s just a guy who came back after four years.”

“Look, he survived on an island for over four years that was inhabited by cannibals, cannibals who, if I’m not mistaken, are yours, the big cheese, fucking mistake. If there’s anyone who deserves that protection shit, it’s him. He knows _everything_ about that island.”

“Look, kid, it’s almost a waste of time to even start this-“

“If you don’t put him in it,” Ray takes a deep breath. “I’ll fuckin tell.”

That shuts Burns up. He pulls over into a seedy gas station and turns to look at Ray.

“You wouldn’t,” He starts.

“I’ll tell anyone and everyone about that island, what the government did, what it did to us. I’ll open up that can of worms.”

“Son disclosing classified government information to the public will result in federal prosecution,” Heyman firmly says, voice hardening.

“Well, if you want to keep close tabs on me so I won’t blather, put me in the witness protection. I could potentially do a federal offense, so, in order to not make me do that, you should put me under the program.” Ray crosses his arms and looks defiantly at the marshals. “Yeah, I fuckin know my shit. I read a book or two.”

There’s an uncomfortable silence that lasts too damn long. Ryan still hasn’t looked up.

“Look at you, knowing a loophole,” Burns smiles, and Ray’s confidence wanes. “You _are_ in knowledge of a secret that could threaten the nation. You really want to be in the witness protection program?”

“Not _I,_ _we_ ,” Ray grabs Ryan’s arm and Ryan looks up, a look of confusion in his eyes. “Or we’ll tell on you.” That sounded incredibly childish coming from his mouth. Ray winces at the words.

“Very well then,” Burns turns to start the SUV up and drive back onto the road. “Boys, I hope you know what you’re getting into.” He instructs Heyman to call the office and make an official report, and gets on the freeway towards downtown Chicago.

“Ray,” Ryan hisses. “What are you doing? Witness protection program? _Really_?”

“How else are you going to start your life over?” Is all Ray answers.

 

 

There’s a long process, in which several other agents and officials (who are told of the situation, and are surprised at the mention of voluntary protection program) tell Ray and Ryan multiple times-and they cannot stress this enough- that they can no longer go back to where they’re from, and can’t contact anyone from their old life.

“That’s okay,” Ray jokes. “I lost my phone in the crash and I couldn’t remember numbers without that thing anyway.” No one laughs. They tell Ray and Ryan that they can’t even stay in the same state, and will have to relocate to another.

“That’s fine. What are the others?”

“There’s programs in every state, but there’s federal branches only in Illinois, New York, California, and Texas.” An agent explains. “No matter what state you choose, you will be given lodging and a stipend and employment.”

“Will we be separated?” It’s surprisingly Ryan who asks this. He’s been quiet since they arrived.

“Given that you two are under duress for the same conflict, it would be difficult to have you in separate programs. We rather have you two in the same place so we can keep an eye on you.”

Ray doesn’t hide his excitement and even Ryan is smiling for once. “Guess you’re stuck with me buddy!” Ray wraps an arm around Ryan who gratefully leans into the touch.

“What a hell I can’t escape,” Ryan says drolly, but there’s a hint of mirth in his eyes.

“Want to live in West Virginia?”

“Holy fucking _shit_ no what the hell gave you that idea?”

“Alaska?”

“Ray please don’t-“

“South Dakota gets no loving-“

“And it _shouldn’t_. Ray, please, don’t pick the state.” Ryan turns to the agent, who is flustered at their little banter. “Ma’am,” he says. “You pick the location.”

“Uh, well,” the agent looks over her papers. “Marshals Burns and Heyman are officially stationed in Austin, Texas,” she suggests. “There’s a booming IT market in Texas, and you wouldn’t have to wait long to find a job there. Plenty of space, loads of people, and from the looks of it neither of you have ever been to Texas.”

“We haven’t.”

“Don’t they kill brown people there?” This was Ray.

“Well…” the agent is at a loss for words.

“They kill brown people everywhere, Ray,” Ryan deadpans and Ray shrugs and chuckles. “Got me there.”

“Alright! We’re settling in Austin? Cool beans. When are we going?”

 

 

Ray is insistent that they do not fly to Austin, no matter how much the agents explain that it is quicker and easier (“But if we crash into another fuckin island with more cannibals then what? Hmm? I’m not ready for another Senorita Gang Signs”) so they do the arduous and exhausting fourteen hour drive from Illinois to Texas. Ryan is all for it, as long as they’re not walking, but Ray gets stir-crazy. If only he had a DS or something. He is reminded that, since he cannot go back to his old life, even his video game progress is forfeit.

“I can’t even use my BrownMan gamertag?!!” Ray exclaims as Burns and Heyman are driving them through Iowa.

“You gave up your former life, remember?” Heyman reminds him. “You have to start anew.”

“That was seven fucking years of hard work! 375 000 Gamerscore!”

“Well, you have plenty of time to start over.” Is all Heyman says. Ray is so grouchy he doesn’t speak to anyone from the drive in Iowa until they are halfway into Kansas. The final stretch from the end of Kansas into Texas was agonizing; Ray was getting on everyone’s nerves and Ryan almost opened his door and rolled out of the car while going eighty on 1-35.  It takes an additional seven hours for them to drive through Dallas and on the narrow highway from Dallas into Austin, and Ray’s just about to get on Ryan’s last nerves when Burns tells them they’re thirty minutes away from their issued lodgings. Ray is in better spirits and Ryan doesn’t contemplate launching himself out of the SUV anymore. When they get there, Burns and Heyman waste no time in getting Ray and Ryan situated with their sparse accommodations. It’s a small brown brick house in a tiny, unassuming suburb, right in the middle of the artsy college population. It is fully furnished and someone had the courtesy to stock the kitchen with groceries (“you got rabbit in there?” Ryan asks and Ray facepalms). The marshals are eager to be rid of them for the night, but Burns turns and asks is there anything else they would need, just to be polite. Ray looks around the house. There seems to be everything they would need, except.

“Yeah,” he says. “Where’s the closest Walmart or Game Stop?”

“Why?”

“I need to play a video game so bad I’ll pry your thumbs off for one.” Heyman walks over to a cabinet in the living room and pulls out a board game. “Here,” the marshal hands it to Ray. “Deal with that until then.” Ray looks at him as if he grew another head, then swiftly walks over to the sliding glass door, opens it, and punts the board game across the backyard. Heyman grumbles.

After going over their new names (Ryan Haywood has been circulating for a couple years as a missing person and is presumed dead), Burns explains that Ryan is set up with a small IT job at a gaming company.

“C’mon, Raymond Jimenez?” Ray whines. “Couldn’t you be any more stereotypical?”

“We were not going to accept Richard Phist, no matter how adamant you were.” Burns tiredly debates.

“Why not Thaddeus?”

“ _No_.”

“But, Jimenez?”

“Jimenez Jr. Jr.,” Heyman jokes and Ray is about to punch the marshal in the throat. Ryan is James Essig, and Ryan doesn’t throw a fit about it. When they are reminded to report to the marshals once a week, Burns and Heyman finally leave.

Here they are, starting their new lives. Ryan stares at Ray, who stares back, and offers a small smile. He walks into the kitchen and reaches into the fridge for two cans of Sprite. He returns to Ryan and offers him a can, who takes it.

“Here’s to our new life,” Ray clinks the aluminum can to Ryan’s and opens it, and drinks it down in one gulp. It’s been so long since he’s had soda, and he missed it dearly.

They don’t know what to do in their new house (since Ray booted the only source of entertainment from the house and there’s no cable nor wi-fi set up yet) so Ryan suggests heading to bed. There’s two separate bedrooms, one for each, but Ray disregards his and curls up with Ryan in his bed. Ryan doesn’t argue.

“Hey,” Ray has his head on Ryan’s chest.

“Hmm?” Ryan replies.

“Remember that bet we had on the island?”

“What bet?”

“That whoever kills the most mutants gets their dick sucked?”

“Yeah?”

“Well, you won, remember?” And before Ryan can utter a syllable Ray is slinking down and pulling Ryan’s sleep pants down, and strokes him to full hardness. Neither of them get that much sleep that night.

The next day Ryan is escorted to his new IT job until he is set up with his own car, and Ray is left alone. There is a lot to do in Austin, but the outside bothers him. He stays indoors and watches people pass by his house, and figures, if he survived an island with cannibals, then why can’t he survive walking in a suburb? He figures he might as well wait until Ryan gets back so they can go look for a Walmart to get a video game or two. Ryan doesn’t return until late at night. He looks a bit tired, but he’s carrying two giant Game Stop bags and Ray fights to hug him and kiss him merciless in front of the agent driving him.

“You promised me on the island that you would show me how to play these games,” Ryan explains as he empties one bag that seems to have at least twenty games in it, and the other with a PS4 and an XBOX One, consoles that even Ray hasn’t gotten yet.

“God I’m going to wipe the floor with you in these,” Ray beams, “but that’s okay because I’m going to let you bone me in every room.” Ray has never set up a console so fast in his life, and his heart soars as he and Ryan sit on the floor and play games and eat all the Cheezits until two in the morning.

They fall into a mundane life and dutifully report to the marshals once a week, and Ray is starting to get used to the neighborhood. He almost introduced himself to the neighbors as Richard Phist but he behaved and was proud of himself. He orders pizza twice a week and goes to the movies with Ryan when there’s one they want to see. Ryan works long hours, yet he works his way up quickly from junior level to senior IT technician. He doesn’t talk about work much, but he says he’s given a lot of projects that most people in the department have difficulty doing. He’s having trouble talking to others and making new friends, but he says he doesn’t mind; he’s got Ray. They sleep in the same bed, have sex on occasion, and even shower together, but not one will admit if they have anything going on between them, and neither will say they’re in love. According to Ryan, they’re still just best friends.

Before long it’s been four months and Ryan has a car and he and Ray drive downtown to go grocery shopping. Usually the marshals would have a supplier to stock their kitchens, but as soon as Ryan had access to a car and got used to driving again, it stopped, so they were on their own.

“We need to wean you off the junk food,” Ryan explains when they pull into an HEB parking lot.

“But, but _Cheezits_ ,” Ray whines. Ryan sighs as they walk in the store and Ray makes a beeline to the soft drinks aisle and gets a twelve pack of Mountain Dew Code Red.

“Ray-“

“The nectar of the gods. Here, for you,” Ray goes and gets a twelve pack of Diet Coke.

“Look at you lifting heavy objects.”

“Shut up nerd.” Ryan chuckles and heads off to the produce section, keeping the colas in the cart. Ray walks over to the cereal aisle, and has an epic internal struggle on whether he should get Fruity Pebbles or Captain Crunch. He’s about to decide on just getting both (why the hell not) when he notices a kid struggling to reach for the Frosted Mini Wheats. He’s too short to reach, so Ray approaches him, mindful to keep a distance because he doesn’t want to look like a pedophile.

“You need help?” He asks. The boy looks at him, hesitant on talking to strangers. Ray backs up a step.

“I want the Strawberry Mini Wheats,” the kid says plainly, pointing at the box. Ray reaches up and gets it for him, hands it to him; mindful to keep his distance.

“Here you go, buddy,” Ray smiles at the kid, who beams up at him.

“Thanks, mister.”

“Where are your parents? You shouldn’t be away from them.”

“My mom is with my little sister, she said since I’m a big boy I can go pick my own cereal, so here I am.” The boy replies smartly, and Ray nods.

“That’s good, now go tell your mom what cereal you got.” The boy nods and turns to go look for his mom, but Ryan is coming down the aisle and the kid stops and looks at him. Ryan looks at the kid, confused, and then another look slowly appears on his face that Ray can’t tell what it is, but it makes Ryan stop. The kid pauses, as if to say something, but then a female voice calls out a name and the boy responds. Ray turns to see a woman wheeling a cart with an infant daughter in the front. She’s small, blonde, and wearing navy blue scrubs. The kid walks up to her and puts the cereal box in the cart.

“This is the cereal I want, mommy,” he says.

“Honey, remember when I told you to wait for me to come to the cereal aisle with you?” The mother patiently reminds him. “I don’t want you wandering off alone.”

“It’s okay, this guy helped me.” The boy points to Ray. The mother looks and Ray waves awkwardly.

“He was having difficulty getting his cereal so I gave it to him,” Ray tries to look as innocent as possible. “I’m Ray, I moved here a couple months ago.”

“Hello,” the mother smiles awkwardly, unsure if she should be cordial to a man who was alone with her son, and Ray doesn’t blame her.

“I’m sorry I tried to get him to go back to you, and I didn’t offer anything. Honest.”

“I know, it’s okay, just, mother’s instinct just kicks in at all times,” the woman laughs to alleviate the mood. Ryan has turned away and is going to another aisle. “My son just likes to wander off when I’m not looking; he takes after his dad.” The last part was said rather sourly and the woman frowns, but says nothing more.

Ray ought to go look for Ryan, so he tries to back out of the conversation. “Well, I hope you guys have a good day,” he nods his head and offers a small smile. He waves to the boy. “Enjoy the cereal.” He turns away and grimaces. _Dear god that sounded suggestive_. Where did Ryan go? Ray searches the dog food aisle and finds him, which is weird because they don’t have any pets.

“Ryan?” Ray says and Ryan visibly jumps and turns to look at Ray, pensively looking over his shoulder for the mother and her children.

“What’s wrong? You disappeared and left me to fend for myself when that lady thought I was trying to pick up her son.” Ryan doesn’t answer as he goes back to inspecting wet dog food.

“Ryan?” Ray is concerned. Ryan looks devastated, and he has no reason why. “Dude, you okay?”

Ryan lets out a drawn out breath and blinks. He turns to get push the cart out of the aisle and Ray follows him.

“He looks just like his father,” Ryan murmurs quietly, and goes to the self –checkout line.

 

 

Ryan is silent throughout the entire car ride home, and unloads the groceries all by himself when they get back. Ray doesn’t have any words to say, and keeps his distance from Ryan. He buries himself in a couple of rounds of Call of Duty, and is about to switch to Wolfenstein when Ryan emerges from the bedroom and sits next to Ray on the floor.

“Hey,” Ray offers a small smile to the older man, who blankly looks at the screen and picks up a controller. He opts out of Wolfenstein and puts in a racing game for them to play; something simple yet fun to distract them both. There’s a lull between them as they race track after track, when Ryan finally says something.

“She had a wedding ring on her finger,” he says quietly and Ray pauses the game. “It was a different style. It wasn’t the ring I gave her.”

“Ryan?”

“She even has a new kid,” Ryan smiles sadly. “Good for her. I’m happy. My so- _her son_ looks happy.”

“So, that was…”

“That was my wife and my son, yes.” Ryan reaches over to Ray’s controller and presses Start to resume the game. “He looks just like me as a child. It was like staring into a Link to the Past.”

“I’d fist bump you for the video game reference but this is serious.” Ryan laughs but there’s no humor in it.

“Sorry I walked off, I just, I dreamed for _years_ to finally see her, to tell her much I missed her, and I thought I would never see her again. I wasn’t ready, and I don’t think she would’ve been happy to see me.”

“I understand. It was a lot to handle.”

“Did she say anything about me? Did she _notice_ me?”

“No, all she said was-“ Ray pauses and looks at Ryan. “She said that he wanders off a lot, and that he takes after his dad.”

Ryan doesn’t say anything and his car onscreen crashes into a tree.

“You want to pick another game?” Ryan just leans over to eject the game from the console and puts in Worms: Revolution. They fall into a silent game, blowing their worms up into smithereens and launching them into the water on accident, and Ray lets Ryan beat his ass in it every round, even when Ryan has tears quietly streaming down his face.

 

 

It takes Ryan several weeks to get over the shock of seeing his family, and after that he avoids the grocery stores they would most like frequent and goes out less and less. Eventually it got so bad that Ray has to drag Ryan out of the house to go report to the marshals. When Ryan drives, the radio is off, and there’s no conversation, despite all of Ray’s efforts to talk to him.

“You’ve been on your computer a lot,” Ray says when they’re off to go meet Burns and Heyman. Ryan says nothing and stares out at the rain cascading on the windshield. His eyes are rimmed red and mildly unfocused.

“You’re not, _looking_ for them online, right?”

“I bring my work home with me,” Ryan answers too quickly. Ray doesn’t answer and just looks out the window. They drive on for twenty minutes when he speaks.

“You have to move on, Ryan,” Ray says softly. “Just like she did. You can’t go back to that old life.” Ryan’s only answer is a sigh.

Ryan remains quiet for a few more weeks when he finally opens up to Ray once more and they fall back into their routine. They play games with banter between them, they go out to the movies, and they started being intimate again. There’s a level of affection that Ryan gives that Ray has never felt before (or maybe it’s been so long since they’ve kissed that he’s forgotten what it’s like). They kiss more often, and Ray finds himself sitting in Ryan’s lap more than he sits in a chair. The words “I love you” sit heavy on his tongue and he wants to say it, and he means it when he thinks to himself that he loves Ryan, but every time Ryan has this wistful look on his face Ray’s confidence shrivels up and dies and he leaves it to just kissing and blowing him under the covers to show his love. He jokes that Ryan is “weird” and “creepy” and calls him made up names a lot that makes Ryan just smile and joke back, and he decides he’ll let that be their way of saying I love you. He figures Ryan already knows by now.

In the coming weeks Ray has become so bored with being cooped up in the house that he decides he’s going to get a job. Ryan is happy to help, and the marshals offer employment assistance, as it is in their list of duties. Ray is offered to assist a bookkeeper at the local university's credit union

"A big boy job compared to my couple of stints," Ray beams as Ryan gives him last minute advice on how to make a good first impression and training him on being organized and thorough in note taking.

"You're going to do well," Ryan smiles softly. "If you can throw a spear and kill mutants, then you can endure boring mundane note-taking and checkbook balancing for students for six hours a day. How's it feel to be an _adult_ adult?"

Ray looks at him and his face grows solemn. "Fucking terrifying," he admits. "How the hell do you do it?"

Ryan has Ray get used to a regular bedtime, and even though Ryan works even stranger hours at the IT job, where sometimes he's going to bed two hours before Ray has to get up and go to work, he always makes sure to pull him close to share his body heat and leave soft kisses in his hair.

On his first morning on the job, Ray wakes up and Ryan is fast asleep, face buried into the pillow. Nervous about his first official day working, Ray gently shakes Ryan awake. Ryan rolls over and grumbles, but he opens his eyes and sleepily looks at Ray all dressed up professionally for once.

"Go get 'em, tiger," Ryan says blearily, smiling at Ray straightening himself for the hundredth time.

"I'll bring home that bacon," Ray jokes, and leans forward to kiss Ryan, who returns the gesture. He turns to walk out of the bedroom when Ryan says his name.

"Ray?" Ray turns around.

"Final word of advice," Ryan has a serious glint in his eye. "When meeting new people at the job... remember not to throw tennis balls at people."

Ray laughs. "I won't," he promises, and closes the door.


End file.
